Emory's POV.
The cold air whips past me as I sprint down the winding path toward the medical center, my lungs burning, my legs aching, but I don’t dare slow down. My breath comes in sharp bursts, clouding the mist that’s slowly curling its way back over Black Hollow like a curse.
Lucian is right behind me — I can hear his footsteps pounding against the earth, steady and strong. A constant I don’t deserve right now.
Faster, Emory. You have to move faster.
Hope is back there. They’re all back there. Writhing. Vomiting. Dying.
I burst through the door of the medical center with trembling hands and throw myself toward the lab, fumbling with the keypad. The moment the lock clicks open, I shove the door wide and head for the back counter where I keep the ingredients.
Lucian closes the door
