Lana’s POV
The hospital smelled like bleach and oranges—the kind of synthetic citrus they pump into saner places to convince you you’re not unraveling under fluorescent lights. It didn’t fool me. The corridor stretched long and pale ahead of me, and Artemis’s back—broad, iron-straight—was already at the far end, moving toward the automatic doors. He didn’t look back. He never did when he’d already made a decision.
“Are you okay?” Julian asked quietly from behind me.
I flinched because I hadn’t heard him come up, and because the answer was no. My eyes never left Artemis as he pushed through the doors and disappeared into the afternoon glare. A sliver of sky cut through the glass like a wound. My throat worked around something that wasn’t words.
“He’s going to sacrifice himself—” I murmu
