Two hours later, Sebastian moved over to me the moment I closed the door behind me.
I pressed my lips together, my gaze flicking briefly to Ravić behind him. His brows lifted, reading both my emotional exhaustion and the tension thickening the air. Behind him, the table was a mess of map, markers and a half-empty bottle of blood with two drained glasses beside it.
"How is she?" he asked, voice low, controlled. Too controlled.
"Better," I answered.
I stepped past him, toward the empty glass nearest to Ravić, but my husband was already reaching for the bottle. Without a word, he had already poured me a fresh drink in his glass.
"Thank you," I murmured, taking it from him and feeling the comforting burn of the blood, mixed with the red wine, sliding down my throat. "You saved her."
Sebastian's jaw tightened, fisting his hands in his pockets.
