-Tiago-
I can smell my own blood trickling from a dozen little scrapes and larger punctures on my torso, the pain in my cracked ribs a bright sharp reminder that I can't afford to stop breathing. Not here. The punch of mold, soft stale cotton sheets, the bitter adrenaline in Graves' sweat. His face, eyes glittering, mouth twisted in-
Tap, tap. There's a small insistent kick against my palm, softly disrupting the smooth curve of Sam's belly beneath my hands. I feel her fingers softly trace my knuckles once, twice- and stop. Reaching behind her her hand runs farther up my arm, igniting her to spin in the circle of my arms to face me. Her eyes look like liquid gold under the veil of tears, breath hitching when I reach up to trace her cheekbones.
"I missed you," she ma
