"Easy there," a gentle voice soothed.
Amelia cracked open her eyelids, their lids heavy. A blurry figure materialized beside her bed – a woman with kind eyes and a warm smile. She wore a crisp white uniform, the starched fabric a stark contrast to the chaos of the previous night.
"Where am I?" Amelia croaked, her voice dry and raspy.
"You're at St. Jude's Hospital," the woman replied. "You were brought in unconscious, suffering from a sedative and a minor wound on your arm."
The memories flooded back – the chilling arrival of The Order, Richard's desperate lunge for the watch, the searing pain in her arm, and then… darkness.
"What about Victor?" she rasped, a surge of panic flooding her system. "And my father?"
The woman's smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of concern crossing he
