CHAPTER 61 A Line in the Sand

  Avery's POV

  The scent of blood and herbs clung to the air, mingling with the damp earth beneath my feet. The makeshift medical area was nothing more than a collection of tattered tents and scattered supplies, but to the people here, it was their last hope. Charles moved among them with practiced ease, checking wounds, murmuring reassurances, his presence a steadying force in the chaos.

  I couldn't leave. Not yet.

  "I'm staying," I said, my voice firm as I turned to the others. "These people need help. Charles needs help."

  Amelia let out a disgusted noise, stepping back as though the filth of the camp might reach out and stain her. "You can't be serious. This place is revolting, Avery. Disease, dirt, suffering—none of this is our concern."

  I clenched my jaw, refusing to rise to her bait. "It is my concern. You can go if you want, but I won't."

  Julian stepped forward, his eyes studying me carefully. "Then I'll stay too. You could do with an extra hand."