A low hum filled the room the faint vibration of hospital machines, the quiet rhythm of life slowly returning.
Damien Cole’s eyelids fluttered open to a haze of sterile white light and soft beeping sounds. His throat was dry, his body heavy, and the dull ache that pulsed in his side reminded him of the knife wound he’d taken.
For a moment, his mind struggled to piece together what had happened Leah’s terrified scream, the blood, the chaos.
Then, the room came into focus.
Sitting beside his bed was Mrs. Cole, eyes swollen from crying, her hand clutching his. On the other side, Ann sat quietly, hair neatly brushed, face made up as though she hadn’t left the room for days.
“Damien!” his mother gasped, voice cracking with relief. “Oh, thank God you’re awake.”
He blinked slowly, trying to
