A soft knock on the door jolts me out of my brooding. “Come in,” I call, forcing myself to stop gripping the desk.

Jasmine slips inside and shuts the door behind her, then turns to face me. At the sight of her pale, drawn features and the shadows beneath her eyes, my stomach plummets.

“Jasmine?”

Her chin wobbles.

My chair shoves back, and I’m reaching for her as Jasmine hurries across the office and flings herself into my arms. She’s so small, gathered into my lap—delicate and trembling. The tip of her nose is ice-cold against my throat, and I clutch her closer, my heart thudding where she’s plastered to...