6. Chapter

Rowan’s POV

The moment the girl’s skin touched the water, it became immediately clear that this had been a bad idea.

Not because the method itself was flawed.

But because her body didn’t react the way a human body should.

She didn’t scream.

She didn’t thrash in panic.

Her body locked down.

Her muscles tensed—not jerking, not spasming, but going rigid, as if her system had made a single decision: resist. Her chest began to rise faster, pulling in air in sharp, shallow breaths, but there was no hysteria.

That… was worse.

“Hold her,” Myra said shortly. “Don’t let her slip.”

As if that had even crossed my mind.

The water was ice-cold. The kind of cold that bites straight into the nerves. I felt it race up my own arms, my muscles tightening reflexively beneath my skin. I was used to it.

She wasn’t.

Caroline’s body didn’t start shaking right away.

First, it fought.

“Don’t move,” I told her. “If you thrash, you’ll swallow water.”

“I’m… not thrashing…” she panted. “It’s just… damn cold…”

“Yes. It is.”

I didn’t have patience for gentleness. This wasn’t that kind of situation.

My hands slid automatically beneath her shoulder blades, giving her a stable hold. Not because I was trying to comfort her—but because it was the only way to keep control. Her body was light. Too light. Her skin looked paler in the water, almost translucent.

That bothered me.

I shouldn’t have been noticing details like that.

Caroline’s fingers moved, instinctively clutching at my arm. They didn’t grip. They just rested there. Cold. Rigid.

“Breathing?” I asked Myra.

“Fast, but she hasn’t collapsed,” she replied. “Keep her in.”

“For how long?”

“Until her body decides what it’s going to do.”

That wasn’t an answer.

But I accepted it.

She started coughing. Dry, forced coughs that shook her entire frame. Her head tilted to the side, her hair slipping into the water.

I pulled her up higher.

“Look at me,” I said. “Don’t close your eyes.”

“I’m… not sleeping…” she gasped. “It’s just… like I’m… slipping away…”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

That wasn’t reassurance.

That was an order.

That was when the water began to behave strangely.

It didn’t ripple.

It didn’t slosh.

The surface seemed to tighten. Tiny vibrations ran across it, irregular, as if something were pressing up from below. The temperature didn’t change, yet it felt as though the cold were concentrating.

“You see that?” I asked.

“Yes,” Myra said. “And it shouldn’t be happening.”

Caroline’s breathing suddenly slowed. Not gradually. Not naturally. One moment to the next. The trembling stopped. Her muscles went slack.

“Fever’s dropping,” Myra said. “Fast as hell.”

“How fast?”

“Too fast.”

That answer pissed me off all over again.

Caroline’s head tipped forward. Her weight slumped against me. She hadn’t lost consciousness, but she no longer held herself upright. Her body had stopped fighting.

“Is she conscious?” I asked.

“Yes,” Myra said. “Exhausted. But responsive.”

A thin film of ice formed on the surface of the water. Not across the whole tub. Just around her. Then, seconds later, it vanished.

That was the point where explanation stopped being an option.

“This isn’t a human reaction,” I said.

“No,” Myra agreed. “But she’s alive.”

Caroline let out a soft sigh. Not in pain. Not in fear. More like… her body had completed a process.

“It’s… better now…” she murmured.

“You’re not talking,” I said. “You’re focusing.”

“You always… give orders…”

“Yes.”

“I hate you…”

“Mutual.”

At least that was honest.

“We need to take her out,” Myra said. “Slowly.”

I lifted her from the water centimeter by centimeter. Her body was wet, cold, but no longer shaking. Her skin had more color now. Her lips weren’t blue.

I laid her on the bench. Myra covered her immediately. Caroline flinched at the dry fabric but didn’t protest.

“Don’t let her fall into deep sleep,” Myra warned. “She needs monitoring.”

“I’m watching.”

That wasn’t a promise.

That was an assignment.

Caroline cracked one eye open.

“If you… ever do this again…” she coughed. “I swear… I’ll burn down… the wellness wing…”

“Quiet,” I said. “You’re resting.”

“Terrible… experience…”

“Survivable.”

“Shame…”

Myra turned away so she wouldn’t react.

I didn’t.

Eventually, Caroline went still. Not deeply asleep, but no longer active. Her breathing evened out. Her body no longer trembled.

I stayed beside her. Standing. Motionless.

On guard.

Not an emotional choice.

Not attachment.

Simply the fact that I couldn’t leave her unattended.

Outside, the wind scoured the mountainside. Snow crackled against the roof. Trees groaned under the weight.

And too many things had reacted at once for me to believe this was coincidence.

Not because of the girl.

But because the mountains were watching.