Lena’s POV
I sat down in the corner of our bedroom and my fists balled up so hard on my lap, the first two knuckles had gone white. The seat I’d been thrust onto felt like a jail as I listened to Selena ease her way over Lucien’s poisoned body with the kind of practiced comfort that told me they were accustomed to it.
“His pulse is evening out,” Selena murmured, her fingers locating the strongest point of his heart beat in his neck. “This fever is going to break in an hour.”
Her hands were deft, precise, knowing just where to push and how hard to press. I'd attempted to assist when we first brought him in, trying anything and everything I possibly could to save the man that I loved. But Selena had dismissed me with thinly veiled impatience.
“I need some space to function,” she’d said,
