The woman looked down at Qyla, and the little fox immediately moved closer, rubbing her head affectionately against the woman’s hand.
A trace of tenderness flickered through the woman’s eyes—but it vanished almost instantly, replaced by her usual cold composure.
“Thank you,” she said calmly. “Once I’ve recovered, I’ll leave. I don’t want to impose.”
“There’s no rush,” Dustin replied gently. “Focus on getting better. May I know your name, miss?”
The woman was silent for a moment before answering softly, “My name is Kennedy Bellemare.”
For the next several days, Kennedy recuperated at the villa.
She spoke very little, spending most of her time meditating and regulating her breathing. Occasionally, she would stand by the window, staring toward the distant mountains as if lost in thought.
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