The Luna Beyond His Reach Chapter 08

The Luna Beyond His Reach Chapter 08

At the Silvermoon hospital, Theron ran through every ward like a madman.

Finally, he saw her in a hallway at the end. Leaning against the wall. Her face bone-white. Her gaze going distant.

“Rhea!”

He screamed, running toward her. But she slid to the floor and went limp.

He felt for her breath—so faint it was barely there.

“Healer! Someone! Help!”

Tears poured down his face. “Rhea, don’t do this. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please wake up…”

A medical team rushed her into the ER.

Theron collapsed outside, watching the red light, his chest crushed by an invisible vice.

Sienna showed up. She saw the scene, faltered, then stepped closer. “Is she… is she okay?”

He looked up, eyes blazing with pure hatred. “Shut up! If it weren’t for you, she wouldn’t be in there!”

She flinched, stepped back, then hardened. “You’re blaming me now? You chose me! If Rhea dies, it’s her own bad luck!”

“Get out! GET OUT!”

Sienna saw the madness in his eyes. She knew she’d only make it worse. She turned and left.

The ER light stayed on for what felt like forever.

When the healer finally came out, shaking his head, Theron’s whole world shattered.

“I’m sorry. We did everything we could. Multiple organ failure. She’s gone.”

“RHEA!”

He fell to his knees, his scream tearing through the air.

She’d said he’d send her home. He’d thought it was just anger. He’d never imagined this was what she meant.

Every quiet look she’d given him—it had been good-bye.

And he—the man who had once prided himself on being a healer, a savior of the dying—was the very hand that pushed her into the abyss.

He had believed he could save anyone, that no illness was beyond his reach. Yet when it came to the one he loved most, he couldn’t even do a thing.

He’d killed her with his own hands.

In his mind, he saw her walking toward him in her wedding dress. So beautiful. So radiant.

“Theron, I love you.”

They were supposed to grow old together.

Now it was over.

Rhea would never call his name again. Never smile at him.

His chest seized. Blood filled his throat.

Darkness closed in at the edges of his vision. The world tilted and spun.

He wanted nothing more than to let go, to sink into oblivion and never wake up. Because waking meant facing the brutal truth he’d spent years running from.