Danton's lips thinned. Without a word, he abruptly stood and walked toward the creaking wooden door.
"Wait."
Evangeline's fingertips were cool as she gently closed them around Danton's wrist. Her grip was neither light nor heavy, yet impossible to break.
With her other hand, she placed the egg, which had finished absorbing the medicinal fluid, into her dimensional space. She then lifted her gaze to meet Danton's, her eyes placid. "It's still raining outside. A Siren fed on your soul. You need to rest."
"Why are you here?" Danton's voice was soft, like a thin blade—sharp and frigid.
He didn't pull away from Evangeline's grasp. He simply turned to her slowly, his pale blue eyes filled with a faint chill, devoid of any emotional ripple, as if he were looking at a stranger. "Where is Finnian Finch?"
Though his voice was steady, Danton's fingertips trembled slightly. His mind was a chaotic mess.
