Anton's POV
Anton walked back from the bathroom, careful not to make a sound as he returned to bed, while still trying to make sure he didn't lose his sleepy eyes.
Claire was fast asleep, looking peaceful as ever. For a second, he just watched her, letting the warmth and magic of the moment sink in. After so many years of being very close friends, they've gone a step further; closer.
He slipped back under the sheets, tucked an arm around her and closed his eyes, thinking he'd get some more sleep himself.
But as he settled in, a metallic clink caught his attention. He opened his eyes, glancing toward the door just in time to see a small metal canister roll across the floor, stopping a few feet from the bed.
Confusion turned to dread as a thin stream of smoke began pouring out, filling the room with a strange, bitter scent.
"Claire…" he whispered, reaching out to shake her awake. But already his head was spinning, and his vision was blurring.
