"Don't you dare lose that fire, little rose," Greg murmurs fervently against my clammy skin. "Not when you're one of the few beautiful reminders I have left of why this whole bloody struggle is worth it."
I try to formulate a response, to convey the resounding depth of emotion his words have stirred in me, but the blackness keeps insistently lapping at the edges of my consciousness. I must make an involuntary sound of distress because Greg instantly tenses, rising up slightly to get a better look at my face.
"Rosetta? Hey, stay with me, love," he barks in that military command tone that brokers no argument. "We can't move yet, not until I'm sure you're stable. But I need you to keep talking to me, yeah? Tell me...tell me about that little cottage you rambled about sometimes. The little d
