Odette's Pov
After I asked him that question, he didn't move. Not a breath. Not a shift. Nothing.
For the first time in my life I was dying to know what someone's face looked like. To know if his brows had drawn together, if his mouth had curled into that cruel smirk, or if — for once — there was something human hiding there.
But all I had was silence.
Silence thick enough to drown me.
I waited, my ears straining for a hint of movement, a sigh, anything. But the quiet stretched, torturous, like claws dragging down my spine.
Then finally, his voice cut through it.
"You should rest, Odette. You've lost so much blood already."
Cold. Detached. Like he was reciting a line from a script he didn't even believe.
It wasn't an answer. It wasn't what I needed. It wasn't enough to tell me if Mara would still be alive by sunrise.
