Chapter 57: Cold Touch
The bunker was silent, save for the steady drip of condensation and the shallow rasp of Victor’s breathing.
He had been unconscious for three days.
I sat by his cot, my hand resting on his chest. His heart was beating, but the rhythm was wrong. It was slow. Deliberate. Like a clock ticking down the seconds until the end of the world.
And he was cold.
Not just "winter" cold. He radiated a chill that seeped through the blankets, through my clothes, and into my bones. I had piled every fur and blanket we had on top of him, but his skin remained the temperature of marble.
"He's not warming up," Mara whispered, changing the poultice on his chest where the earth had crushed his ribs.
"He will," I said, my voice tight. "He just needs time."
I looked down at Lyra, sl
