CIAN
I waited in the silence. The seconds stretched out, marked only by my uneven breathing. My hands had finally stopped shaking, but the echo of my mother's voice still lingered in my head. The delicate had proven herself. Proven that she could reach into the past and pull out the most painful moments a place had witnessed.
Now I needed her to do it again.
Ronan moved toward the door. He paused with his hand on the handle and glanced back at me. "Are you sure about this?"
"Get them," I said.
He studied my face for a moment longer, then pulled the door open and disappeared into the hallway. I heard his footsteps fade, then return a minute later accompanied by softer ones. The handler entered first, supporting the delicate who still looked unsteady on her feet. Her face was even paler now, almost translucent in the morning light. The tears had dried on her cheeks but her eyes remained red and puffy.
