KNOX’S POV
“I know you’ve been told I’m terminal and I know you think that means years, maybe, or months at least, because that’s what terminal sounds like from the outside — a long, slow, dignified decline with time to prepare.” She pulls her arms tighter around herself and I can see her hands shaking and the grey of her skin and the thinness of her wrists and the blood she coughed up on the plane and all of it rearranges itself into a picture I should have read hours ago. Days ago. “I have two weeks. Maybe less. The herbs that have been keeping me upright are failing. Dr. Patel told me at the summit when you left with Ember — the updated scans, the bloodwork, all of it — and I was sitting in the corridor afterwards crying like an i***t when Rafael found me.”
Her words land and rearrang
