Chapter 39

• The room was quiet except for the faint crackle of the lamp in the corner. The air smelled of antiseptic and smoke, a mix that clung to Zane’s skin as I pressed the damp cloth against his side. I tried to keep my movements steady, professional even, though the weight of his stare made it impossible to breathe normally.
• I hadn’t wanted this—being this close again. After everything I said earlier, I should’ve left him bleeding in his arrogance. But here I was, cleaning wounds that refused to close.
• He didn’t speak. Just watched. Every time I reached for a new bandage, I could feel his eyes following the motion of my hands, unblinking.