The Syndicate

Donovan watched as Zoe curled on the bed like a cat, her fragile form trembling faintly under the dim light. He knew what awaited her when she woke—the pain, the needles, the nausea that would claw at her insides. His chest tightened as he hovered over her, his large hands cradling her with a tenderness that belied their size. He pressed his nose to her cheeks, inhaling the faint scent of her, as if to anchor himself to her presence. She was here, she was real, and she was his to protect—even if he couldn't shield her from everything.