Emily’s POV
I blinked hard, my lashes sticking together as if glued shut by sleep. The ceiling above me blurred into a dull grey wash, and for a moment, I could not remember where I was.
The faint scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, mixed with something homey. Was that the smell of coffee? Or toast? My throat burned, dry as sandpaper, and my muscles screamed as I tried to shift.
Consciousness returned in fragments, each one heavier than the last. First came the ache spreading through my body, deep and sharp, radiating from my ribs. Then the unfamiliar quiet of the room, broken only by the hum of a refrigerator somewhere close. My pulse quickened.
This was not my apartment. This was not the Russo mansion.
Panic shot through me like electricity, my chest tightening as I struggled
