The post-apocalyptic nightmare Hana thought she had left behind in the ash of her past life wasn't a historical event.
It hadn't ended.
It had just been waiting every year and came out once the temperature dropped.
The silence that followed Hana's sudden silence was heavy.
Caspian's large hand tightened around hers, his thumb rubbing over her cold knuckles in a desperate bid to anchor her. "Hana? Speak to me. Your heart is hammering against your ribs. Ren, look at her!"
Ren didn't need to be told. He leaned forward, his cool fingers instantly pressing against the pulse point on her neck. His icy blue eyes scanned her pale face, his brow knitting together in deep concern. "The internal bleeding has stopped, and the bones are set. This isn't a physical relapse. Hana, what is it? What did Mina say?"
Hana barely felt their touch. The room seemed to tilt.
In her past life, the end of the world hadn't been a grand, cinematic event. It had been a slow, agonizing crawl of rot.
