Ivan Gray's voice sounded from behind her, but a buzzing filled Summer Thorne's head, and she couldn't hear a word he said.
She just stared at Timothy York before her, and for a moment, it was as if she'd forgotten how to breathe.
The Timothy York before her was a stranger.
The man who was always so calm and composed, who wouldn't have flinched if a mountain collapsed before him—that Timothy York was actually capable of such a pained expression.
'Just how much pain must he be in?'
Summer Thorne couldn't imagine.
Because her mind had all but ground to a halt.
At this moment, she couldn't think of anything at all.
It seemed like a blank slate, but in reality, her mind was overstuffed, things piled one on top of the other, jamming every thought and image until they were frozen solid.
