I leaned against the helicopter's cabin wall, my face calm despite the storm inside. The night air whipped past, carrying me farther from Galathia Pack.
"Clara, you okay?" Nick's voice broke through, concern sharp in his tone.
His gaze caught my paper-pale face, and I forced a smile, swallowing the pain tearing through my insides. "I'm fine," I coughed, but my voice betrayed me, thin and shaky.
Nick's brows knit, his eyes scanning me. My hands trembled, my body curled slightly to shield my aching core. The chopper hit turbulence, jolting me, and the wounds on my back screamed. I bit down hard, sweat beading on my forehead.
"You're hurt," Nick said, his voice low, certain.
I tried to shake my head, but darkness swallowed my vision. My body went limp, sliding from the seat like a broken
