Claire woke up the next morning feeling restless. The events of the previous night kept replaying in her mind. She blinked at the faint light streaming in through the cracked blinds, her body tense and alert even though the room was quiet.
Turning her head, she glanced at Anthony beside her. He was sleeping fitfully, his breathing heavy and labored, his face etched with pain even in sleep. Bruises marred his skin, and his chest rose and fell in uneven gasps. She could see the toll everything had taken on him, and it made her chest tighten with worry.
How much longer can his body hold out like this? she thought, her brow furrowed. She didn't want to face the possibility that he might not make it through all of this. Not with Clarke still out there, hunting him like an animal.
