ALEXANDER
I sat there for a long time after she drifted off, her head resting in my lap, the steady rise and fall of her breathing finally even again. Faye had fought sleep for so long, her mind still racing from what she’d seen, until exhaustion finally claimed her.
I brushed a hand over her hair, watching the way the faint light from the bedside lamp caught the strands, tangled slightly from stress.
I couldn't stop myself from really thinking about what she said she saw now that I was alone. If it had been a dream, it would have been easy to dismiss. Dreams were fickle, born out of fear, stress, exhaustion. But she wasn’t asleep when it happened. She was wide awake. And the look on her face when she thought I was bleeding out before her—it wasn’t fear of the unknown. It was the kind
