Fiore stirred slowly, her consciousness returning in fragments. She blinked against the soft morning light filtering through unfamiliar white curtains that swayed gently with the breeze. Her surroundings weren’t recognizable—this wasn’t her room. She felt disoriented, her head pounding with the lingering effects of whatever had happened to her. Panic bubbled in her chest as she scanned the room, her eyes settling on a man standing near the window, his back turned to her.
“Lance?” Fiore croaked, her voice hoarse. She winced at the sound of it, raw and weak, as if she hadn't spoken in days. The sight of him brought a wave of both relief and confusion.
Lance turned toward her, a small, reassuring smile on his lips. "You're awake," he said softly, moving away from the window and walking towa
