The air in the Garden Room had turned thick, like water.It was 11:00 PM. The mansion was quiet, the crew having retreated to their trailers or the upper floors. But in Suite 1, silence was a heavy, suffocating blanket.Elion sat on the floor next to the bed, changing the dressing on Cale’s neck. The cuts from the glass explosion were small, but they were angry—red and inflamed, refusing to close."Hold still," Elion murmured, dabbing antiseptic on a particularly deep scratch near Cale’s jugular."It stings," Cale hissed, flinching away."I know. Iodine isn't a spa treatment. But unless you want an infection to go with your fracture, sit still."Cale gripped the sheets. He looked pale, his eyes sunken. The "blindness"—the loss of his Sight—was taking a toll deeper than the physical injuries. He looked like a man trying to navigate a room full of knives in the dark."It's cold," Cale said suddenly.Elion paused, the gauze hovering over Cale’s skin."It's June, Cale. It's seventy degree
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