The world came back in fragments.
A sharp smell of antiseptic filled Kafziel’s nose first, stinging and unfamiliar. Then came the low, steady beeping of a monitor, slow and rhythmic, like a heartbeat that wasn’t his own. His eyelids felt heavy, glued shut by exhaustion, but panic surged before thought had time to form.
“What happened?” he croaked, his voice rough and dry as sandpaper.
He forced his eyes open.
White ceiling. Harsh fluorescent lights. Blurred shapes moving around him. The realization hit him all at once—hospital. His chest tightened as memory tried to rush back all at once and failed.
He pushed himself up instinctively, pain flaring in his side.
“Wait—don’t stand up!” Bea’s voice cut in sharply, close and urgent. Her hands pressed gently but firmly against his shoulder
