Sin For me, Daddy.
His jaws twitched underneath the shelter of his mouth.
Slowly, very cautiously, he let loose of the doctor’s collar, taking a step backward.
The doctor let out an exhale. Relieved.
He didn't have time to arrange his coat. He had grace. Grace to save the mafia lord's wife or he would be dead before the tick of the long-hand clock.
Briskly, he adjusted his glass, hurrying over to Rosealba who lay on the bed. Chest, rising and falling at every faint breath.
Drystan stood next to a stand, away from the light—where the doctor treated Rosealba—the only light in his world.