Zayne’s POV
The room smells like blood and fear.
Not fresh blood, but old blood. The kind that lingers in stone walls and seeps into your lungs until you can taste it. Aurora lies on the table in the center of the room, pale, unmoving, her chest rising, too slowly for my sanity.
I’m standing at her side. Jake is standing between us.
Again. “Get away from her,” he snaps, shoving my shoulder hard. “You’ve done enough.” I barely feel the push. My eyes never leave Aurora’s face.
“She’s dying,” I said quietly. My voice doesn’t sound like mine. It sounds hollow. “And you’re in my way.”
Jake laughs, sharp and ugly. “You think touching her fixes this? Her blood is failing. Her body’s rejecting everything. Even you.”
And that hits harder than it should. Before I can move, the door slams open
