Her voice was steady now.
Not emotional.
Not uncertain.
Certain.
She moved without hesitation.
Cool cloths.
Positioning.
Lowering his temperature.
Small, precise actions done with the confidence of someone who had done this before—someone who had failed once and refused to fail again.
Marcus stood there, watching everything he thought he controlled collapse into something far more real.
Fear.
Dependence.
Trust.
Minutes passed.
Then slowly, Zion’s breathing steadied.
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