The next morning, Asher stood by the boy's bedside, watching his chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. He still hadn't woken up, his small frame dwarfed by the plush blankets that covered him. The worry gnawed at Asher—this boy had survived something horrific, and yet here he was, clinging to life in an unfamiliar place. For a brief moment, Asher brushed a hand over the boy's hair, murmuring, "You're safe now. I'll make sure of it."
But there was nothing more he could do for now. Lingering wouldn't change anything, and time was slipping away. With one last glance at the boy, he left the room, resolving to focus on what he could control. Information. Action. Answers.
