"Why…" Aiko Nakamura rasped, her voice hoarse with anguish. "Why is it that even in death… Do you still… only think about Lily Anderson? I'm dying… I'm already dead… and you still won't… won't even hold me?"
"Fine, I'll hold you!" Ethan Blackwood's pupils contracted. His long arms shifted to wrap around her shoulders, pulling her into his embrace. His movements were rough, devoid of tenderness, driven only by urgency. "Is this enough? Now tell me—what's the formula?!"
Ethan was anxious, more anxious than Lily herself.
Lily noticed the beads of sweat forming on Ethan's forehead. He was genuinely on edge.