“Breathe. Just breathe,” Aria whispered, her fingers trembling as they moved slightly above Isabelle’s wrist, checking her pulse again.
“She’s stable,” Philip assured from the other side, scanning vitals with the handheld monitor. “Bruised, but she’s strong.”
Aria crouched by Isabelle’s side, brushing a blood-matted curl from her temple. “I shouldn’t have waited.”
Isabelle stirred slightly, her lips twitching. “You came,” she mumbled, voice hoarse.
A breath Aria hadn’t realized she was holding escaped. “Of course I came.”
Jerry stood a few steps behind, his face shadowed under the dim lights of the infirmary. “She’s safe now. That’s what matters.”
“No, Jerry. What matters is that Helena got away again,” Aria snapped, eyes narrowing with fury. “She’s always one step ahead. And now...
