The sharp, sterile tang of disinfectant clung thickly to the air inside the hospital room. Julian lay stomach-down on the hospital bed, faint streaks of fresh blood seeping through the thick layers of gauze tightly wrapped around his back.
His face was as pale as paper, his lips drained of all color. But the second he saw Mina step through the door, a flicker of faint light sparked to life in his dim, lifeless eyes.
"Mira..." His voice came out rough and gravelly, frayed thin from the agony of his severe injuries.
Mina sat down in the chair pulled up beside his bed. Her expression was blankly calm, no resentment, no warmth, nothing but total, utter detachment.
"How are you feeling right now?" she asked.
Julian drank in the sight of her face like a starved man, desperate to etch every
