The pain in his throat and chest from moments ago receded very slowly, leaving behind aftershocks that caused Julian Sterling's entire body to tremble incessantly. He remained curled up in Ethan Caldwell's embrace, every breath of air being forced out of his lungs in broken, arduous gasps. Cold sweat broke out in dotted beads, completely soaking the loose strands of hair that plastered against his forehead. Beneath the dim illumination of the night lamp, his slender fingers gripped the hem of Ethan Caldwell's nightclothes so tightly that the knuckles turned stark white.
Ethan Caldwell was truly in a state of panic. The long-maintained disguise of composure belonging to the head of the Caldwell family had completely shattered. Unlike the previous occurrences, he realized that this pain no longer stopped at the level of mental interference or hallucinatory agony. It was etching itself deeply, reflecting directly upon the flesh and blood of Julian Sterling's very body.
