William's arms tightened around Elise, cradling her as he pulled her from the wreckage. Her teeth were clenched, a low groan escaping her lips as her entire body trembled with violent, jarring pain.

Something was trapping her foot, anchoring her to the mangled car. Every slight movement William made sent fresh, sharp agony shooting up her leg.

He was afraid to pull too hard. Terrified that internal injuries, unseen and unknown, could be worsened by brute force.

"Are you stuck?" His voice was a strained whisper, close to her ear.

Pressed together in the confined space, she could feel the frantic, heavy rhythm of his breathing. The rapid, pounding beat of his heart hammered against her. His fear was a palpable, living thing between them.

"My right leg..." she managed to gasp out, the words thin and strained.

William immediately dropped into a crouch, his gaze scanning the wreckage. Her foot was pinned, crushed beneath the front passenger seat where Patrick Montgomery remained slumped and unconscious.

He didn't hesitate. His hand shot out, striking Patrick's cheek—a stark, harsh contrast to the gentle care he was showing Elise. "Wake up!" he snapped, the command sharp and urgent.

The impact jolted Patrick back to awareness. Pain and disorientation clouded his features for a moment before his eyes focused. "Mr. Montgomery?" he slurred, his voice thick.

"I'm fine," Patrick responded, his own voice tight with suppressed pain.

Instinctively, Patrick's hands went to his seatbelt, fumbling with the jammed clasp.

William had no patience for it. "Get up. Now," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Elise's foot is trapped under your seat."

"Understood," Patrick replied, the professional bodyguard in him overriding his personal agony. He was no ordinary driver; working for the Montgomery family required skills far beyond chauffeuring.

Gritting his teeth, Patrick braced himself. He adjusted his position, ignoring the screaming protest from his own injuries, and pushed upward with every ounce of strength he possessed.

As Patrick strained, William returned to Elise's side. He wedged his hands under the heavy seat, his muscles corded and bulging with the immense effort. A guttural, primal grunt was torn from his throat as he heaved. "Now, Elise! Pull your foot out!" he ground out, the words barely intelligible.

Elise tried. She willed her leg to move, but there was nothing. No sensation. No response. A cold, stark terror seized her. Was her leg even still attached?

The horrifying thought sent a fresh wave of cold sweat beading across her skin, stinging the raw, open cuts on her arms and face.

"Elise, hurry..." William urged, his voice strained to its absolute limit. He was pushing his body past its breaking point, and his strength was finite.

Patrick, grievously injured from the crash, wouldn't be able to hold the position for long. If he collapsed, the full weight would crash back onto Elise's foot.

And the smell of gasoline was thick and cloying in the air. A single spark would turn the wreck into an inferno. Time was a luxury they did not have.

Elise knew the danger. Panic clawed at her throat. She tried to reach down with her hands to manually free her leg, but the deployed airbag pinned her in place, making the attempt futile.

"Breathe, Elise," Patrick's voice cut through her rising hysteria. He was pale, his own consciousness a fragile thread he was clinging to by sheer force of will. "Just breathe."

She sucked in a sharp, ragged breath, forcing her eyes shut. In the darkness behind her eyelids, she focused on the sound of William's ragged grunts, on the harsh pant of his exertion. She used the sound of his struggle to anchor herself, to push back the paralyzing fear. She willed her body to calm, to find a way.