My throat tightened. He was ready to fight for me. For Eamon. Despite the exhaustion etched into his face, he was already bracing himself to stand between me and whatever came next. I kept the truth about Riven locked away. The betrayal burned, but the confusion ran deeper. Riven had saved me, then stood at Varessia’s shoulder; the logic was fractured. I needed to confront him myself—to force the truth into the light—before I unleashed the wolf on him.
“Two days,” I repeated, forcing a smile. “Okay.”
The door opened. A nurse bustled in, efficient and brisk, checking her watch.
“Visiting hours are nearly over, love,” she said to me, though her attention remained fixed on Dane’s chart.
Then she paused. She looked at me, expression shifting from professional to recognition.
“Oh! It’s you.” She smiled, a kind, tired thing. “Detective Rowan, isn’t it? Good to see you upright. You gave us a scare the other week.”
I blinked, pulling my hand from Dane’s. “I… yes. Thanks.”
“You healed remarkably fast,” she said, adjusting Dane’s IV. “Though I suppose having a guardian angel helps.”
The word caught in my throat. “My father?”
“Well, him too. He was a wreck, poor man.” She chuckled softly. “No, I meant the other one. The tall one. Dark hair, blue eyes that look like they could freeze water?”
“What?”
“The day you were brought in,” she said, oblivious to the ice spreading through my veins. “He came in after shifts changed. Very persuasive. Said he just wanted to sit with you.”
She shook her head.
“I’ve been a nurse for twenty years, love. I’ve never seen someone sit that still. He sat in that armchair in the corner for six hours straight. Never looked away. Never slept. Just… watched you.”
She glanced at me, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Is he the boyfriend? He certainly looked like he was ready to murder anyone who woke you up.”
The room spun.
I remembered the feeling in the hospital. The presence in the corner. The block of ice. The sense of being watched by something ancient and terrifying.
The sensation was familiar—it was Riven.
He sat with me. He watched over me while I was broken. He was guarding me before the partnership ever existed. Before he ever touched me.
Why?
If he was a monster… if he was Varessia’s creature… why did he guard me when I was useless to him?
“No,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “He’s not… he’s not anything.”
The nurse patted my shoulder. “Well, if you say so.”
I stood up. I needed air. The questions were clawing at my throat.
“I have to go,” I told Dane.
He looked concerned, trying to sit up straighter. “Selene? What is it?”
“I’ll be back,” I promised. “I just… I need to figure something out.”
I moved through the hospital, passing the nurses’ station and the sterile, white-tiled corridors without truly seeing them.
Riven had played my partner for weeks. Then he had stood by and watched my father die. The facts were irreconcilable. I needed an explanation—a lead to determine exactly where he fell in this mess.
I clutched my bag tighter, the stiff spine ofThe Little Sun and the Little Moonpressing against my ribs. I needed the weight of it—something of Eamon’s to anchor me before I drifted away entirely.
