The weather was cool and it was drizzling by the time Cyrus stepped out of the car, but the unease in his chest had nothing to do with the weather. He took out his umbrella and opened it.

He stared at the hospital entrance, the glass doors reflecting a man he barely recognized. Camilla's words haunted him.

“Not for her. Not even for me. For you. Pretend all you want, you know the truth, deep down.”

His fists clenched at his sides. His jaw tightened. Every instinct told him to turn around. Walk away. Keep the armor on.

But his foot had a mind of its own, and he’d promised...