Jacqueline woke with exhaustion weighing heavily on her limbs. Sleep had barely touched her. Each time she drifted off, she startled awake in a cold sweat, heart racing, breath uneven. After the third time, she gave up trying altogether.
She showered, letting the water run over her aching body longer than necessary, then slipped back into the same clothes of his she had worn since yesterday. There was no first-aid kit here, no ointment to soothe her wounds. The skin across her back felt stretched too tight, raw and tender, every small movement a reminder of it.
Quietly, she made her way downstairs and padded toward Mathieu's room. She pushed the door open just enough to see him fast asleep, chest rising and falling peacefully. Relief softened her features.
Her gaze flickered toward the door next to his. The urge to check if Damien was there tugged at her, but she resisted it. Instead, she turned and walked toward the kitchen.
