Sam's P.O.V.
It wasn’t the pain in my body that woke me—it was the sound of voices outside my door. Low, hushed murmurs that carried an edge of worry. My mom. Damian.
For a moment, I stayed still, staring at the ceiling. The events of the previous day came rushing back: the car spinning out of control, Jax shouting my name, the crushing weight of fear. My chest tightened, and I blinked hard to push away the tears threatening to spill.
We were home now. Safe. That’s what they kept saying. But safety felt like a lie when I could still feel the phantom roll of the car, hear the crunch of glass beneath us.
I forced myself to sit up, wincing at the ache in my side. A faint knock on the door startled me. Before I could answer, my mom peeked her head in, her face lined with exhaustion.
“You’
