The hospital orderly, a young woman with a kind but weary expression, pushed Clara's wheelchair directly to Leo and stopped. "Her clothes were too bloody," she explained softly, her gaze sympathetic, "so we just wrapped her in a blanket."
Leo nodded, his throat tight, unable to articulate a response beyond a strangled sound. His eyes were fixed on Clara, his heart twisting at the sight of her, so small and fragile, wrapped in the sterile hospital white.
Clara, until now, had been staring blankly ahead, her eyes distant, unfocused. But at the sound of the orderly's voice, or perhaps the sudden stillness, she slowly, painfully, lifted her gaze. Her eyes, still dulled by shock and pain, drifted past Leo's anguished face.
And then she saw them.
Silas. Dante. Kai.
They stood there, a formi
