SONYA'S POV
The morgue is exactly as depressing as you'd expect.
Fluorescent lights that stutter intermittently, metal tables with suspicious stains, the smell of chemicals trying to mask the smell of death. I hate it immediately.
Reign insisted on coming despite the doctor's very vocal objections. He's moving slowly, one arm pressed against his bandaged chest, his face pale but determined. Landon is with us too, an oxygen tank trailing behind him on a small cart, looking equally stubborn.
"You're both stubborn idiots," I mutter as we follow the nervous morgue attendant down the corridor.
"Noted," Reign says.
"Appreciated," Landon adds.
"You didn't have to come," Reign says for the third time.
"Yes, I did,” I reply. “This is about both of us now. Besides, you're still injured. You
