Leon's hands wouldn't stop twitching. He hovered near the bed, his eyes fixed on Mia's motionless form. The gold in his irises seemed to flare with every shallow breath she took, a living fire of fear, anger, and helplessness all at once. Raul stayed a step behind, pacing silently, his hands rubbing over his face in disbelief. He couldn't look at her like this; the sight clawed at him like a predator.
"She's stable, barely," Orla's voice cut through the tension, "but she's not out of danger yet. The toxin is strong—cleverly disguised. Whoever administered it knew exactly what they were doing."
Leon growled low, a deep vibrating threat against the air itself. "Who would—"
"Not yet," Orla interrupted. "We don't accuse. We observe. This student will need to tell us if she knows anything. Any premature conclusions will backfire."
