Kairo's words cracked across the sterile room like a whip.
The air turned heavier in an instant, pressing down on Eli's chest until it felt like he was drowning.
His head snapped toward Kairo, eyes wide. The man's posture was deceptively casual in the chair—one long leg stretched out, arms folded loosely across his chest, shoulders angled like he had all the time in the world.
But his eyes… his eyes were anything but casual.
Those black irises burned into Caelen, sharp and unwavering, as if they were dragging every particle of oxygen out of the room and consuming it whole.
The tension crawled over Eli's skin, prickling, suffocating.
Caelen, however, didn't so much as blink. His molten gaze gleamed with amusement, a predator's patience. His smirk curved wider, slow and deliberate, like he'd been waiting for this moment.
He leaned back against the chair at Eli's bedside, fingers tapping an idle rhythm against his knee as if this were nothing more than a game.
