Kain Locke
The old woman's voice trembled as she stared at Kael, who was laid out on a rickety wooden chair in her small sitting room, his face pale and slick with sweat. "Oh, child… this looks bad." Her fingers brushed against his forehead before trailing down to his wrist. "We gotta get him treatment or---" She suddenly paused, her brows furrowing as she pressed two fingers against his neck. "His pulse is weak… it's just too weak. This is dangerous..."
She straightened, hands moving frantically as she turned toward the small wooden table in the corner. "Wait. I'm going to call the medical center and make a report. Where do I put the communicator…" she muttered the last part to herself.
My entire body tensed. No. No. No. If she called anyone, then we were dead.
That's right, she allowed us inside the house after I pleaded with her that we need help,
My brain worked fast, calculating the worst-case scenarios. If she called them, we were as good as dead.
