“What does… critical mean?” I finally managed to whisper, the sound fragile and thin. The warmth of the chicken broth in my spoon seemed to evaporate, leaving only the metallic chill of fear on my tongue.
Levi looked at me, her expression a careful blank. “It means he’s fighting for his life, Alicia. It means he’s likely on life support, possibly in a medically induced coma.”
I gripped the edge of the wooden table, my knuckles white against the dark grain. The terrifying force that had driven me into this frozen wilderness was suddenly, violently neutralized. I felt a deep, painful contraction in my chest. My heart thumped, a chaotic, panicked rhythm against my ribs. The image of him, the cold, invincible Luther, lying on a hospital bed with his body wrapped in wires, pained my heart.
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