Lila did not wake all at once.
Consciousness returned in fragments—sound before sight, sensation before thought. The steady drip of liquid somewhere nearby. The faint murmur of voices held deliberately low. The ache in her body that was no longer sharp but deep, settling into her bones like something that intended to stay awhile.
She breathed.
That was the first thing she noticed.
It didn’t hurt to inhale.
Her chest rose and fell without panic clawing at her throat, without the terrifying rush that had accompanied blood loss and fear. Her limbs felt heavy, distant, but they were there.
She was here.
Slowly, she opened her eyes.
The ceiling above her was unfamiliar—not the stone of the Alpha floor, not the softer textures of her old quarters. Pale wood beams crossed overhead, etched
