Davis's POV
The hospital waiting room smelled of antiseptic and fear.
It was a sterile, impersonal space, white walls, uncomfortable plastic chairs bolted to the floor.
I sat with my elbows braced on my knees, staring down at the speckled floor tiles, my hands still stained dark with Lirien's blood. No matter how many times I wiped them on my pants, the crimson refused to fully disappear. It had dried in the creases of my palms, under my nails, a haunting reminder of how close we had come to losing him.
