The next morning broke under a dull gray sky.

Rain still clung to the city, as if the heavens refused to wash away the sins that had taken root there.

Rosemary woke to the sterile smell of the hospital and the soft hum of machines. Her body felt weak, but her mind was clearer than it had been in weeks.

Beside her bed sat a tray of breakfast — untouched — and on the chair next to it, Adrian, fast asleep, his head resting on his arms.

For a long moment, she just watched him.

His face looked calmer when he slept — younger, even. Gone was the arrogance and...