Ara's POV
The hospital doors sighed shut behind us, their antiseptic chill replaced by the artificial air fragrances. My nose found him immediately— Damon’s scent, crisp as crushed mint and earthy as dried sage, cut through the underground musk. But tonight, something bitter threaded through it, like herbs left too long in the sun.
He was pacing near the tunnel, wearing grooves into the dirt with his boots.
“Ready?” He asked as soon as his eyes fell on me. The word came out too fast, like he’d been holding it behind his teeth.
“Yeah!” I nodded.
“Let's go then,” Sailas smiled.
“Ara, wait,” as we turned on our heels, Amara's voice stopped us.
“What is it?” I asked.
She handed me two small packets, “here… Some supplements… foods and ointment and some clothes for you all.” Her ey
