Sacha made his way to my bedside, his face full of concern as he studied me. He didn’t look anything like himself; his usually perfectly styled hair was a mess, and it didn’t look like he had trimmed his beard in days. However long he’d slept hadn’t taken away any of the dark circles under his eyes. “Nic?” His voice was rough. “Sacha.” I breathed his name like a promise, and he closed his eyes, but not before I saw the hint of tears. I reached out slowly, my bruised body throbbing with the movement, to brush his hand. He turned it over and held mine carefully, as if it were fragile, and
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