"I'll take over," Loyce said calmly, taking the clean gauze and ointment from the medic.
The medic tactfully excused himself. Only the two of them remained in the tent, the patter of rain against the canvas the only background noise.
Lucian looked up at her. The woman's face was expressionless, but he caught the lingering weight in the depths of her eyes that she failed to hide completely.
He let her approach. The woman's cool fingers carefully untied the blood-stained old bandages on his shoulder.
"How is Forrest? Is the antidote working?" Lucian asked, his voice low and hoarse from exhaustion and injury.
Loyce's hand pausing to cut a stitch stopped for an imperceptible fraction of a second, then resumed normally. She snipped the thread, then meticulously applied the ointment to his wound.
Her fingertips were cool, but her touch was exceptionally gentle.
"His condition is relatively stable." She didn't look up, focusing on her hands. "The samples you brought back worked. I matched the toxin and administered the antidote."
She lied. Her tone was flat and natural, as if merely stating an established fact.
She couldn't tell Lucian the truth. She couldn't let him risk his life for her a second time. His injuries, Zeke's warnings, the hidden currents within the Shapiro family...
He had already done enough.
Lucian's tense jawline softened slightly, as if relieved.
He closed his eyes, leaning back, letting her treat his wounds.
"That's good. The trip wasn't for nothing."
Loyce silently wrapped a new bandage around him, her movements practiced and swift. Her gaze brushed over his exhausted brows, his tightly pressed lips, and finally landed on his new scars. Her chest tightened, a subtle ache squeezing her heart.
Sensing her stare, Lucian opened his eyes, his deep gaze landing on her face. "What are you looking at?"

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