Alexei takes a seat next to the bed, his eyes drifting over me. It takes a lot of effort to turn my face away from him. “I should’ve stopped it, little one. I’m sorry,” he murmurs softly. “You’ll be here until you’re better.” I struggle to turn my face back to him. “And… then?” Our eyes lock, and I see no malice, only empathy, which is unexpected. “You tell me what you want to do, and I’ll make it happen.”
