“Help him,” Marcus said to Dr. Voss.

They guided Alexander into the large leather armchair behind the desk.

He sank into the leather, his head resting against the high back.

His skin looked translucent in the lamplight, and sweat was dripping down his temples.

Dr. Voss immediately knelt beside him, pulling a stethoscope from her bag.

“His heart is racing,” she said, her fingers on his wrist. “The exertion was too much. He needs the antidote again.”

“I will get the medicine from the kitchen,” I said, stepping forward.

“No, Nina,” Alexander murmured, his voice barely a whisper. “Stay.”

He reached out, his hand trembling as he held his palm upward toward me.

I walked over and placed my hand in his.

His skin was burning hot again, the fever returning with a vengeance.

“You saved my life,” he whispered, his fingers tightening weakly around mine.

“I only did what was right, Mr. Romano,” I said.

“Marcus,” Alexander said, his eyes closed. “If I do not make it through the night…”

“You will make it,” Marcus said, though his face was grim.