Joanne’s POV
I woke with a slight ache in my head and my body stiff from the hard cot. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. The veiling above me was low timber, not canvas, the air thick with the mingled smell of iron, soap, and damp boots.
The barrack’s bunk.
A blanket was tucked beneath my chin, though it provided no warmth. The ache in my bones was a hollow throb that lived behind my ribs and in the soft places of my knees. When I pushed up on my elbows, the room tilted, slow and queasy, until the walls remembered where they were and the faint memory of what had happened came rushing back to me.
Tomas.
I looked down at my wrist where I sliced the scalpel through the tough veins, and my heart squeezed painfully in my chest. It probably wasn’t the best thing to do in that mom
