Elin POV

The hospital corridor smells like bleach and broken promises.

I walk beside Yanis as the nurse wheels him toward the neurology wing. His hand grips the armrest, knuckles white, and I catch the tremor he's trying to hide. The same tremor that ended his fencing career. That stole everything he worked for.

'Because of me.'

Istha growls soft disagreement, but we both know it's true. The car accident, the orphanage, the escape plan—all roads lead back to me.

"Stop that," Yanis ...