Kai's Point of View
I wake to the pale gray light of morning cutting through the curtains, my body is stiff against the mattress. The wound at my side burns dully, stitched and bandaged, but no longer bleeding. Still, the ache refuses to let me forget what happened, refuses to let me forget the moment Octavia’s eyes filled with fear, for me.
I push myself upright slowly, grimacing as the muscles in my torso protest. My hand instinctively presses against the bandage, feeling the pull of the stitches beneath. The doctors said to rest, to stay still, to give myself time. But I cannot just lay here like this. The stillness feels like weakness, and weakness is something I have spent my whole life avoiding.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, my feet hitting the cold floorboards. Every
