I woke up to the sound of the wind rattling the single pane of glass in the loft. The fire downstairs had burned down to embers, leaving the air in the cabin crisp and biting.
I tried to push myself up.
"Ah."
The sound escaped my lips before I could bite it back. My right shoulder, the one the Coven guard had shattered was a landscape of hot, grinding agony. My left arm, wrapped in gauze where I had ripped out the needle, throbbed in sympathy.
"Don't move."
Guilermo was there.
He came up the ladder from the ground floor, moving with a silent, predatory grace that belied how exhausted he must be. He was holding a steaming mug and a bottle of water.
He stopped at the edge of the mattress.
He didn't sit down. He didn't reach out to steady me. He stood a careful three feet away, respec
