Thalina's heart skipped a beat when her eyes locked onto the injury on Eyrx's arm. The deep gash was still fresh, its edges raw and glistening with what looked like blackened blood, slowly oozing from the wound. She felt the color drain from her face as panic gripped her chest, suffocating her.
"No... no, no, no," she muttered under her breath, reaching for him. Her hands shook as she hovered over the injury, unsure of what to do, how to help. "Eyrx, what happened? Why didn't you tell me?"
His cold gaze met hers, and despite the harshness in his expression, she could see the flicker of exhaustion behind his eyes. But that didn't stop her worry. She could barely breathe. She couldn't fathom how something so simple as a cut could make her feel this helpless, but seeing him like this—vulnerable, hurt—it made her feel powerless.
She should be happy that, yay her stupid and cold kidnaper was finally going to die and she'll be able to go back to her comfortable Palace.
