Esme's POV
My legs felt unstable. Every step made them shake, but I kept moving because Marek was beside me, his hand on my lower back, guiding me down the hallway.
His touch was supportive, steady and careful. It had never bothered me before. He had touched me like that for years. But now, for some reason, I didn’t like the feel of his palm there. It made something inside me twist in a way I didn’t understand.
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to start something I couldn’t explain.
Marek walked slowly, matching my pace. “Easy,” he said gently. “You’re still recovering.”
I tried to breathe through the shaking in my thighs. I felt so weak. I hated feeling weak. Not when everything inside me was on high alert, beating against my ribs like it wanted to escape.
We had barely made it
