KILLIAN'S POV.
The fever wasn't breaking.
That was the problem.
Not the storm.
Not the fact that we were stuck in a cabin.
Not even the trap.
The fever.
I sat back in the chair beside the couch and watched her.
The fire had been burning for nearly an hour now.
The cabin was warm.
Her wound was cleaned and bandaged.
Her wet clothes had been covered with blankets.
Everything that should have helped had already been done.
Yet nothing was improving.
Meadow's breathing remained uneven.
Her skin still burned beneath every touch.
Every few minutes, another shiver ran through her body despite the warmth surrounding her.
My jaw tightened.
This should have helped.
At least a little.
Instead, it felt like I was watching her get worse.
Outside, thunder rolled again.
The sound rat
