Sally's POV
The pounding at my door sends my heart racing before the second knock even comes. I'm already moving, my pulse thundering in my ears as I rush to answer it.
Through the peephole, I see Sean with dried blood streaked across half his face like war paint.
I yank the door open so fast it nearly slams against the wall.
"Jesus, Sean," I breathe, my hand instinctively reaching toward his wounded face. "What happened to you?"
His eyes flutter closed the moment my fingers brush his skin, and he covers my hand with his own, pressing it against his cheek.
"The others?" The question tumbles out before I can stop it, dread pooling in my stomach.
"Safe," he says immediately, his voice rough. "Philip took the worst of it, but he's breathing."
Relief hits me like a freight train. My legs wobble and Sean's hands shoot to my waist, steadying me as I grip the doorframe to keep from collapsing. Tears prick at my eyes from the overwhelming wave of gratitude.
