Axel looked like someone who had stared down hell and begged it to spare something precious. He didn't speak at first. He just stood there, framed in the doorway like a shadow had gained mass. His shirt was wrinkled. His eyes were red-rimmed and dark underneath. His hands clenched at his sides like he'd been ready to punch a wall for hours.
The moment our eyes met, something in his expression broke. He crossed the room in three strides and knelt by my bedside, taking my hand in both of his.
"You're awake," he murmured, thumb brushing my knuckles. "You're really awake."
"I'm okay," I whispered.
"No, you're not," he said hoarsely. "But you will be. I promise."
I touched his cheek, fingertips trembling. "What did they say? After I fainted?"
"They adjourned everything. Couldn't keep the mess under wraps. You dropped truth like a bomb, María. Even Álvaro looked rattled. They're cornered now."
That should have comforted me. It didn't. I wasn't there to see it through.
