Jane Jenkins (POV)
Healing isn’t quiet.
That’s what surprises me most.
It isn’t just rest and sleep and fading pain—it’s memories surfacing at inconvenient moments, emotions crashing without warning, Aurora’s instincts flaring when my mind wants calm. Some mornings I wake up steady. Other days, my hands shake when I hear raised voices in the corridor.
Lucas never leaves my side.
He doesn’t hover, doesn’t smother. He simply is—a constant presence, a warm hand, a grounding heartbeat through the bond. When nightmares drag me under, he wakes me without a word, pulling me against him until the past loosens its grip.
I’m sitting up now, wrapped in blankets, when Laria knocks softly before entering.
“You look better,” she says gently, offering a small smile.
“Stronger,” I correct.
