Claire’s POV

Someone had moved me to the bed.

Damian sat beside it with our son stretched along his forearm, one hand covering most of the baby’s back. The bandage around his wrist had turned brown where the linen met his skin. He had not changed his shirt. The blood down its front had dried almost black, and none of it belonged to him.

I worked one hand free of the blanket and touched the baby’s foot.

Warm.

He kicked irritably against my fingers before settling again.

A faint smile touched my lips as I felt the tiny movement.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Four hours.” Damian leaned closer,...