Heath’s POV
Cold.
That was the first thing I noticed when Talia finally arrived.
Not the way the doors burst open. Not the frantic footsteps echoing down the sterile hallway. Not even Nixon’s towering presence behind her like a shadow that refused to leave her side.
No. It was the cold. It clung to the room, wrapped around my lungs, settled into my bones... because Posy… my Posy… was no longer warm.
I stood frozen beside the bed where her tiny body lay, surrounded by machines that had already given up on her. The steady beeping that once marked her fragile life had flattened into a sound I would hear in my nightmares for the rest of my existence.
A straight line. An ending.
“No…” My voice cracked, hoarse, broken beyond recognition. “No, she’s still here. She has to be---”
The door
