Thorne POV
This is the most terrifying moment of my life.
I have been through war. I have seen battlefields littered with corpses, witnessed the horror of men torn apart by steel and fire. I have fought, bled, and survived things that should have killed me a hundred times over.
But nothing—nothing—has ever made me feel this kind of fear.
Noelle lies on the bed, pale, his long raven-black hair spread across the pillows. His body is completely still except for the faint rise and fall of his chest. His delicate hands rest at his sides, fingers twitching even in unconsciousness. The sight of him so still feels wrong, unsettling.
I shouldn't have let them sedate him.
There was an argument before this.
Noelle had refused to be put under. He had fought them, fought me. He insisted he didn't need it—he hadn't been sedated when Mirelle was born. He wanted to be awake, to see our children the second they entered this world.
