The Price of Mercy
Dawn came quietly, painting the horizon in strokes of gray and gold.
I woke to the sound of shallow breathing. Louis lay beside me, his skin pale, his body trembling with fever. The scent of blood and wolfsbane still lingered around his wounds, thick and bitter. His heartbeat was faint but steady — for now.
My muscles screamed when I tried to move. Every inch of me ached, but I ignored it, crawling closer to him. I brushed damp hair from his forehead. His skin burned under my palm.
“Louis…” I whispered. “Stay with me.”
He stirred, eyelids fluttering. “Kim…” His voice cracked. “We… made it?”
A small smile tugged at my lips. “Barely.”
He tried to laugh, but it came out as a broken gasp. “You shouldn’t have come for me.”
“I told you,” I said softly, “I don’t abandon
