Viktor's eyes opened slowly, the darkness of the room gradually giving way to dim shapes and shadows.
Pain throbbed through his torso—dull and persistent, like someone was pressing hot coals against his belly and back.
He groaned, the sound low and rough in his throat.
Carefully, he shifted his weight, feeling the tight pull of bandages wrapped around his midsection.
The memory of the daggers flashed through his mind—the cold steel punching through flesh, the wet sound of blood hitting marble, the looks on their faces.
He shook his head, pushing the images away.
As his vision cleared, he noticed them.
Helena and Mira, curled up on either side of him on the bed, their breathing slow and even in sleep. Between them, little Toby was nestled against Mira's chest, his tiny fist clutching her dress.
Viktor exhaled slowly, taking in the sight.
'Haah,' he thought, something warm and uncomfortable stirring in his chest. 'All night, they stayed beside me.'
