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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: LOTTA LOVE
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WHEN MAGGIE OPENED HER eyes, she wondered for a moment if this was another dream. She was laying on a vaguely familiar couch, a knitted blue blanket pulled up beneath her chin, warm fingers slowly massaging through her shamefully oily hair. There was a twinge of pain in her wrist, and her head felt heavy, like she'd woken up with the hangover of a lifetime. But she was alive. Paul was sitting beside her, it was his hand she could feel. They were entirely alone, and Paul didn't look like someone who'd almost lost his girlfriend. His eyes were half-closed as he struggled to fight off sleep, his features relaxed and unguarded. And then--
Maggie attempted to sit up and hissed as she pressed down on the couch with her bandaged hand. Paul's eyes shot open, and his expression immediately shifted into one of grief. She knew for sure then, that this was no dream. That somehow, against all odds, someone or something had intervened between herself and the Grim Reaper. Before she knew it, Paul had pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
"I thought I said one piece, Maggie," he murmured against the heat of her mouth, and Maggie let out a tentative laugh. She pulled away, but Paul wasn't quite ready to release her. He cradled her face between his palms, eyes soft but pained. "I'm never letting you out of my sight again."
"What happened?" she dared to ask.
For a split second, Paul hesitated. He couldn't quite get the words out, as if speaking them into existence would somehow set them in stone. That he would lose her again, so close yet so far. "You died," he said at last. "Your heart stopped. When Victoria grabbed you, she bit your wrist. She was going to bleed you dry, but Leah managed to intervene. They were fighting, but then Victoria just gave up. She went after Bella then, seemed to think her job was done when she heard your heart stop."
"Then how am I here?" she asked; suddenly, the room felt ice-cold, like she hadn't truly escaped that moment of in-between. The dark night sky was an endless oblivion, and Maggie's heart clenched as she reached up with her good hand to squeeze Paul's wrist. "Can you turn the light on, please?"
He'd crossed the room and returned to her side in a blink. The light was dim but bright enough that some of her unease faded. The shadows fought at the edges of the room, but Maggie knew they could not reach her. Again and again, Paul's words seemed to echo in her head. You died. Your heart stopped. She went after Bella.
"Bella," Maggie voiced aloud. She dreaded the answer, but forced herself to ask anyways, "Is she okay?"
Much to her surprise, Paul nodded. "She cut her arm but she'll heal. But Maggie, Edward killed Victoria. She's gone for good."
For good. It didn't seem real. A new dream she'd unconsciously entered with no end in sight. Slowly, Maggie nodded to herself. She was sure the realisation would really hit her later, when her head was a little clearer and the ache in her wrist had faded away. She cradled it to her chest and listened quietly as Paul finished his summary of events. He'd only seen flashes of it through the pack's mind link with Leah. Mae, brave but so stupid, had chucked one of Emily's glass fruit bowls at the back of Victoria's head before attempting to body-slam her when that failed. She came out of it with a bruised rib and wounded ego, but apparently her distraction had worked. Victoria turned to snarl at her, and that was when Leah jumped in.
