Virgina’s POV

The surgical waiting area smells like antiseptic and old coffee. I pick the chair farthest from everyone else and let my body drop into it like my bones have finally quit.

Jareth drifts over, cautious, as if I might shatter. “Vivienne… are you okay? You’re white as a sheet.”

“I’m fine.” The lie comes out smooth. I keep my eyes down. “I’m just worried about Jonah.”

He studies me a beat, then backs off, ...