Damien pushed the door open slowly.
The room smelled of blood, medicine, and damp sheets. Sofia lay on the bed, pale and weak, her shoulder wrapped in thick white bandages. Her lashes fluttered when she sensed him, but she didn't turn her head. She expected shouting; she expected rage. She expected punishment. But none of that came.
Damien stopped a few steps from the bed.
"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.
The question stunned her more than the pain. Sofia frowned slightly. Why was he asking that? She didn't answer. Her throat felt tight, and her head still spun.
Damien took another step closer. His voice was low and controlled, but his hands were clenched at his sides.
Do you even realize what you did out there?" he said.
She slowly turned her eyes toward him, confused.
"You jumped in front of a bullet," he continued. "A silver bullet."
