Amara lay unconscious on the hospital bed, an oxygen mask covering her face. If anything, it only made her condition even more pitfull. She looked fragile in every sense of the word. Despite being pregnant, she hadn't gained any weight; in fact, she seemed to have lost more. Her once full cheeks were now hollow after just three days of unconsciousness, her cheekbones sharply prominent. For someone carrying a child, she resembled a child herself—one in desperate need of protection from the world and to be treasured.

Killian stared at her unconscious form, his gaze unwavering. For the past three days, he hadn't left her side, no matter what emergencies arose. Since the assault, something inside him had snapped, leaving him irrevocably changed. A gut-wrenching feeling seized him every time he imagined what she had endured at the hands of Derek and Richard—and especially because of him.