His face remained in shadow. He did not speak. He looked once at Elias, once at Celeste’s hand over his pulse, and then down at the amber vial trembling near the edge of the tray.
The door eased shut.
Celeste heard his measured footsteps retreat.
Elias tried to sit up.
“No.”
“Lock it.”
His voice had changed. The weakness remained, but something colder had risen beneath it.
Celeste slid an arm behind his shoulders and lowered him carefully against the black-and-gold headboard. “You may be having a seizure or a cardiac event. I need emergency services.”
“No ambulance.”
“That wasn’t a request for permission.”
“If you call from this house, the call goes through my security office.”
“Then give me a phone that doesn’t.”
His eyes stayed on her face for two strained breaths. Then he moved his left hand beneath the pillow.