Ryre was staring at her. His face was a sickly pale, eyes bloodshot and wavering and dark veins protruded from his skin that sent a shock throughout her entire system. She would have been afraid of him if not for the fact that he was staring at her from the floor.
Sitting on his knees with his hands bracing him up, Ryre looked like a vision of death. She gasped quickly as he let out a series of coughs and rushed forward to catch him before he fell after she quickly turned the lock of the room shut.
His large body fell onto her shoulders and she felt as his chest was wracked with coughs and grunts.
“Shouldn’t,” He wheezed out, “Shouldn’t be here. You need to leave—not, not safe…”
His voice was coarse, and she knew by the sound of it that his throat was dry as well. She couldn’t imagine what state he was in having been locked up in that room for days without the sight or sound of literally anything.
