His fingers reached out, and then...
"Silver."
McKenna turned sharply at the sound of the name. His eyes widened–not because he recognized it, but because he didn't, and still, it made his chest ache.
He forgot the strong presence. Forgot the steel glinting in the shadows. He moved straight to her side.
Her eyes were shut, brow faintly creased. But he was sure, she was the one who had spoken.
"What did you say?" he asked, dropping to his knees beside her. His voice had softened.
His gaze lingered on her face, uneasy. Every time he searched for answers, new questions only seemed to rise.
"Mary."
But she didn't stir. Her breathing was calm, steady. Aside from the crease on her brow, she showed no reaction. McKenna let out a quiet sigh and was about to turn back to the strange pull behind him when he felt warm fingers on his skin.
