THE CONFESSIONThe silence in the mountain cabin was heavy, broken only by the crackle of the hearth and the ragged, shallow breathing of the man behind the furs. Finn’s hand was still on Esmeralda’s shoulder, a warm, steady weight that usually grounded her.

"He’s stable for now, Esme," Finn whispered, his voice thick with a tenderness that made her chest ache. "You’ve done everything you can. Sit. Eat something. You’re trembling."

Esmeralda looked down at her hands. They were stained ...