Avery's POV:
When I opened my eyes again, I caught the faint scent of sandalwood and felt the softness of fine bedding beneath me. It wasn't the sharp, acrid smell of hospital disinfectant, nor was it the dusty, suffocating air of the bullring. I flexed my fingers. Every part of me ached, but nothing felt fatal.
"Avery, you're awake?"
A gentle male voice spoke near my ear. I turned my head and saw my adoptive father sitting at the edge of the bed, his eyes rimmed with red. He wore a tailored suit that fit him perfectly, and a smooth jade thumb ring adorned his hand. The concern in his gaze was genuine, without a trace of pretense.
My adoptive mother stood behind him, her posture graceful, her expression grave. When she saw that I was awake, the tension at the corners of her mouth final
