EMBER’S POV
(PRESENT)
We stay tangled together for a long time, neither of us willing to be the first to let go. His hand strokes through my hair.
My fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. The room is quiet except for our breathing and the distant hum of something mechanical — a generator, maybe, or heating system in whatever unfamiliar place we’ve ended up.
Eventually, when my heart has stopped trying to escape my chest and the worst of the shaking has passed, I pull back enough to really look at him.
He looks terrible.
There are shadows under his eyes so dark they look like bruises, and his skin has a grayish pallor that makes my stomach clench with worry.
Bandages peek out from the collar of his shirt, and when I reach up to touch his face, he leans into my palm like even tha
