ALEXANDER
Light hits me first. Sharp. Unforgiving.
It cuts through the dark like a blade finding its mark, and I am dragged back into the world whether I want it or not.
My lungs remember how to work before the rest of me does. Air tears through my throat in a rough, ugly sound — half groan, half something I’d never let anyone hear under different circumstances.
The room stirs around me. Shadows move. Voices climb over one another in a rush of noise and relief.
I don’t hear any of it.
Because she’s there.
Emmaline.
She stands perfectly still in the chaos, and somehow that stillness makes her impossible to look away from. Her face has gone pale, lips parted, eyes wide and unguarded in a way I’ve never seen on her before.
For one suspended moment, the hospital doesn’t exist. The voi
