Mailah acted on instinct, a surge of adrenaline sharpening her senses. As Soren reached for the sash of her robe, she feigned a wince, letting her crutches clatter loudly against the hardwood floor.
"Wait," she gasped, her voice thick with practiced pain. She grabbed his wrist, her grip firmer than she had shown in weeks. "The pain... it's worse today. The movement in the hallway... it's throbbing."
Soren paused, his eyes narrowing. He was a doctor, and despite his role as her captor, the habit of assessment was deep-rooted. He looked at her flushed face, then at her leg, which she had positioned at a sharp, protective angle.
"You were walking a significant distance," he muttered, his voice cold. "That was unwise."
"I know," she whispered, leaning back against the pillows. She used her free hand to loosely hold the robe shut, keeping the pressure off her pocket. "Please, just... give me a moment to breathe before you touch it."
