Tamsin spun toward the door, knife already in hand. Mercer turned half a second behind her, his body between his mother and whatever stood in the doorway.
An old woman stood there, gray hair pinned back, a tray of bread and water balanced in her hands. She froze when she saw them, the tray trembling slightly, her eyes darting between the open window and the two strangers standing in the room.
"Please," Elena said quickly, rising from the bed. "Marta, please. It's alright."
The old woman didn't move for a long moment. Then, slowly, she set the tray down on a small table near the door. "You said someone might come," she said quietly. "I didn't believe you."
"Marta has watched over me for six years," Elena said, looking back at Mercer. "She's the only reason I've stayed sane in this place
