The darkness didn't last. I was pulled back to the surface not by a gentle wake-up call, but by the sensation of being a live wire in a rainstorm. I opened my eyes to the familiar dim lighting of the penthouse's medical suite. Silas was there, of course. He had traded his suit jacket for rolled-up sleeves, sitting so close that his knees were pressed against the edge of my mattress.
"Welcome back, Luna," he said. His voice was a ragged rasp, a sound of worn-out gravel and pure relief.
"The boy?" I managed to croak. My throat felt like I had swallowed a handful of dry sand, every word a struggle.
"Alive. Stabilized. Marcus has him under twenty-four-hour guard at the sanctuary," Silas replied. He reached out, his large, warm hand covering mine. I expected the usual jolt of electricity, bu
