Jax’s POV
The noise of the battle had died down, but the clash of metal and the whistling of Freya's silver-gold sword still echoed in my head. She lay in my arms like a broken porcelain doll: pale, lifeless, my black t-shirt covered in mud and foreign vampire blood.
I burst into the room with her and carefully laid her on the bed. Silas was already behind me with his medical bag, but his face was grimmer than ever. As he examined the girl, I saw his hand stop in mid-air.
"Jax... this isn't simple exhaustion," Silas whispered, his voice cracking. "Look at her skin."
I crouched beside the bed. Freya's veins at her neck and wrists were glowing faintly, ominously in gold, but the light wasn't healthy. It looked as if it were burning her body from the inside.
"What's happening to her?" I
