Aisha woke again after a short nap, the way you do after pain—carefully, like moving too fast might bring it all rushing back.
Her throat felt dry. Her chest felt… tight.
She shifted, a small sound slipping out before she could stop it.
Immediately, he was there.
Callen rose from the chair beside the bed as if he hadn’t been sitting at all, as if he’d been braced for this moment the entire time.
His movements were controlled, deliberate, but his eyes—his eyes gave him away.
“You’re awake,” he said quietly.
Her heart stuttered. “I—” Her voice cracked. She swallowed and tried again. “What happened?”
“You collapsed,” he said. “The ritual overloaded you.”
Memory flickered—heat, pain, the ground rushing up—and she sucked in a sharp breath.
“Easy,” Callen said instantly. He reached fo
