DAMIEN'S POV
Julian was in the hospital cafeteria alone with a coffee he wasn't drinking.
He looked up when we approached. His eyes went to Elara, then back to me, and I watched him decide not to make a comment about her presence.
Progress, maybe.
We sat across from him. Nobody spoke for a moment.
"What did the cardiologist say?" I asked.
"Neurologist. It was a stroke." Julian wrapped both hands around his cup. "She said the clot was significant. Physical therapy will help the mobility but slowly. Could take a year. Could take longer."
"And cognitively?"
"He's sharp. That's the cruel part, she said. He'll understand exactly what he can't do."
That did sound like a specific kind of hell designed for Richard Cross.
"He'll hate it," I said.
"Yes."
Elara was quiet beside me. Not un
