Cassandra Kane.
Cassandra winced as she shifted slightly in the bed, the pain in her ribs a stark reminder of her current state. The soft hospital sheets crinkled beneath her, and she gingerly adjusted herself, trying to find a comfortable position. The doctor, with his calm, practiced demeanor, was sitting beside her, reviewing the results of her scans while checking her vitals. His reassuring tone had done little to ease her mind earlier. He’d told her the damage wasn’t life-threatening—cracked ribs, a concussion, bruising all over her body—but the words still carried an unsettling weight. She wasn’t sure whether it was more of a relief or a reminder of just how close she had come to not making it out of this nightmare alive.
"Miss Kane," the doctor said, his voice warm and comforting
