Emilia's POV
The air outside the safe house is frigid, piercing through my ripped garments and sinking deep in my bones. I tighten my grasp on Enzo, feeling every shudder that rushes through his body. He's barely standing, his breathing short, yet he refuses to let me carry the whole weight. Typical. Stubborn until the end.
"Lean on me," I gasp, my voice trembling. "Please."
"I'm fine," he spits out, his face pallid but resolute. "Just… a few more steps."
"Liar," I snap, but there's no fire behind it. Only dread. The sort that holds your chest and won't let go. "You're not fine."
He attempts to grin, but it seems more like a grimace. "Still… breathing."
"Not good enough," I responded, trying my voice to keep calm. "You have to do better than that."
