Rashel had grown accustomed to the steady beeping of the monitors set up in Jethro’s room. This had become her station for three days. She sat by Jethro’s bed, always watching him. Sometimes with Kael, most times she sat there alone, talking to him and willing him to open his eyes, how she missed looking into those silver eyes.
For three days, Jethro had lain still, and even with his scars, he looked as striking as ever. He still filled the room; he still looked like the man of authority he was. Nothing had changed.
The doctors had reassured her that he was fighting, that the silver had been taken out, and that the damage had been prevented. But she still harbored fear in her heart. She would hold her breath till he opened his eyes. She wouldn’t let herself rejoice until Jethro called he
