The healer's voice was steady but heavy. "The surgery went well, but whether he wakes up depends on his own will."
Helena and I clung to each other, tears of relief streaming down our faces as we escorted Adrian to his room. I stayed by his side, watching his still face, my heart tangled in memories. Three years ago, I'd been on the verge of calling Juliana, ready to give up and head back to the Westbrook pack. Then that melody—"Heart's Echo"—drifted into my ears, capturing my soul and reigniting my love for music.
Now, sitting by Adrian's bed, I opened my phone and played it again, the notes soft and haunting, looping over and over. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open. He looked at me, a faint smile curving his lips.
I nearly jumped out of my skin, fumbling to call the healer. Helena, worr
