Her voice was soft and indeed carried a hint of fatigue. Adam Jones, who had been about to switch places with her, paused in his steps. After a moment, he silently turned back, and Elly Campbell listened to the faint sounds coming from the bed behind her and breathed a sigh of relief.
In the room, only a dim night light emitted its glow.
Elly faced the couch, paying no attention to Adam Jones.
Adam Jones leaned on the bed, and under the feeble light, his deep black eyes were like a dark vortex, so profound they seemed as if they could suck someone in.
After lying down for a while, he turned over to look towards the couch again. The angle at which he was lying, right against the pillow, made the pain from his wound cause him to frown slightly.
Elly lay with her back to him, her slender body buried in the soft couch, her breathing rising and falling steadily in turn.
