RONAN CAME back to the world with a violent gasp, like a man dragged up from deep water against his will.
The first sound was the machine. A sharp spike, a warning. The second was his own breath, ragged and unfamiliar in his chest. His fingers jerked, reaching instinctively for a weapon that was not there, for control that had slipped away while he bled out on concrete.
His eyes snapped open.
Lily was standing at the foot of the hospital bed.
Not sitting. Not pacing. Standing like she had been braced there for hours, holding herself upright through force of will alone.
For a moment, Ronan only stared at her. His gaze swept her face, her hands, her posture. The way she stood too straight, too contained. Like a door that had been locked from the inside.
“You’re here,” he said hoarsely.
