Ryder’s POV

Amelia barely stirred for the next two days. She’d sleep, wake just long enough to sip water, then slip under again. Every time I brushed hair off her forehead, her skin felt too warm, her lashes too heavy.

Samantha came by midmorning with her satchel. She checked Amelia’s pulse, her breathing, then laid a hand over her chest, eyes closed like she was listening to something deeper. I stood at the foot of the bed, my arms crossed tight, trying not to hover.

“Well?” I ...