Dylan was carefully wiping Adelyn's hands.
His hand paused in midair for a brief second before his gaze drifted back to her face.
She was sleeping peacefully now.
Yet he had once watched her completely break beneath the weight of that very pain.
And witnessing it had broken something inside him far more than he had ever allowed himself to show.
His expression hardened.
Then, silently, he resumed wiping her hands.
"Now isn't the time," he said, his voice as deep and restrained as the night itself.
"But, Boss, he is—"
Before Ford could finish, Dylan turned slightly and looked at him from the corner of his eye.
There was no reprimand.
No sharp warning.
No raised voice.
Yet that single glance carried enough weight to silence everything Ford had been about to say.
He understood immediately.
Lowering his head, he didn't dare continue.
Dylan turned his attention back to Adelyn.
