By the time I reached home, the first light of dawn had started creeping over the horizon. The air was cool, but exhaustion weighed heavy on my shoulders. My hands throbbed from the countless punches I had thrown. My knuckles were raw, the dried blood crusting over my skin a reminder of the night’s work.
I stepped inside and found the house silent. Delilah was still in her room. I slumped onto the chair in the living room, barely having the energy to pull off my jacket before I shut my eyes. Sleep took me instantly.
The morning came too soon.
A dull ache spread through my hands, forcing me awake. I blinked against the sunlight streaming through the window, adjusting to the brightness. When I moved, I noticed something unusual.
My hands were bandaged.
The white wrappings were neatly ti
