Lola’s POV

Flint’s condition took a sudden turn for the worse.

The machines beside his bed beeped faster than before, the sound sharp and constant. I stood frozen at the foot of the bed, my hands clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms.

His legs were wrapped in thick white bandages, larger than they had been yesterday. That alone made my chest tighten.

The doctor stood across from us, his face serious. “The poison is still spreading,” he said. “If we can’t stop it, we may ...