Melody
The first rays of light cut through the blinds, soft and golden, brushing across the room in a way that almost felt gentle after the chaos of the night. I stirred, blinking against the brightness, and glanced at my watch.
7:00 a.m.
Already.
Despite everything—the blood, the alarms, the weight of lives hanging in the balance—sleep had found me. Not deep, not peaceful, but enough. A few fractured hours in a chair that had done nothing for my shoulders or spine. I shifted slowly, every muscle protesting, and took a quiet breath as I looked around the room.
The trauma bay was still. Monitors hummed softly. Four men slept, exhausted but alive. Stable. For now.
I scanned each screen automatically, habit ingrained deeper than thought. Evan. Caleb. Jax. Luke.
Still breathing. Pressur
