Zoya’s P.O.V
Perhaps I had gotten it all wrong, and it was the other way around: he was the victim of
a theft or an attack, which would explain why he was without garments, and why he was
all bloodied and bruised, cut up and dirty.
All these scares I kept getting that he might suddenly wake up and attack me were probably just my tired brain trying to tell me that I needed some much deserved rest.
This hypothesis made sense, too, and even though my own kindness scared me, the
doctor in me wanted to tend to his wounds and care for him until he woke up. I did not
know if that was the smartest thing to do, but I wanted to do it anyway. I simply could
not, in good conscience, turn away from someone in need, and aside from my moral
compass, I was bound by oath to help the helpless, even
