Melody
Morning comes softly, like it’s afraid to startle us.
I wake up tangled in warmth—Mark’s arm heavy across my waist, his breathing deep and even behind me. For a split second, I forget everything. The gunshots. The blood. The frantic rush back to the compound. The way adrenaline burned through my veins until there was nothing left but bone-deep exhaustion.
Then my leg throbs.
Not sharp. Not screaming. Just a steady, insistent reminder that yesterday was real.
I inhale slowly and try to move without waking him. That turns out to be optimistic. My body protests the moment I shift, muscles stiff, leg weak as I carefully slide toward the edge of the bed.
Something else registers before my feet even hit the floor.
The bassinet.
It’s positioned near the window, angled so the early
