Adam lay perfectly still in the quiet of the medical wing, his eyes fixed on the sleeping figure of Noah.
He didn't move a single muscle, and he certainly didn't attempt to shift his hand, even though his palm had started to grow sweaty against Noah's skin.
He was terrified that even the slightest motion might disturb the younger man's rest.
Judging by the awkward way Noah was slumped in the wheelchair and the dark circles under his eyes, Adam could easily guess that Noah hadn't slept for a single second until he finally collapsed from exhaustion.
So, Adam remained a silent statue, staring at Noah's battered but beautiful face with the intense, focused gaze of an obsessed man.
As the first gray hints of dawn began to creep through the windows, the door to the room creaked open.
Caleb stepped inside, his expression tight with a worry he couldn't hide. He had spent the night pacing, convinced that Adam would wake before morning, yet the wing had remained deathly silent.
