The hospital coffee tasted like burnt dirt, but I needed something to hold in my hands. I stood at the vending machine for far too long, staring at the paper cup as it filled. My shirt was still stiff with Isabella's dried blood. Every time I moved, I felt it crack against my skin like a reminder.

When I turned the corner, I saw Lucian sitting in the waiting area, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. Elena was beside him, rubbing his back gently.

He looked up the moment he sensed me. His eyes were red and swollen.

"Dad... is she okay? Is the baby okay?"

I crouched...