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AUTHOR’S POV
The hospital room smelled of antiseptic and quiet grief. The soft beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound breaking through the heavy silence, a slow, rhythmic reminder that she was still here, still breathing. But that didn’t make it any easier.
Sloane lay still, her face pale, her lips slightly parted as she rested in the dim light. The IV dripped steadily into her veins, keeping her stable, keeping her alive.
Damon sat beside her, his fingers clenched together as he leaned forward, his elbows pressing into his knees. His dark hair was a mess from where he had run his hands through it over and over again, frustration and fear consuming him.
He couldn’t stop staring at her, as if he was afraid she’d disappear if he looked away.
His heart ached in a way
