Modric’s POV
Mary Ann did not move when I stepped closer to the table.
The council library was silent except for the faint crackle of the fire and the soft ticking of the old clock near the shelves. Papers covered almost every inch of the table. Festival maps, supply lists, food permits, security schedules, and handwritten notes were spread around her like she had tried to fight an entire war with ink and determination.
Her head rested on one arm. Dark curls spilled across the papers, hiding half her face. The pen remained loosely trapped between her fingers, as though she had fallen asleep in the middle of writing a sentence.
I should have left her there.
She had chosen to work herself into exhaustion. It was not my responsibility to carry her around like a helpless child. She had se
