LYLA
I woke up in Zephyr's bed. In his clothes. A large T-shirt that drowned my form, stopping just at my knees.
Groggily, I sat up, eager to rise, as if standing would confirm that I wasn't dreaming. That I had really been rescued from Darrin.
I threw back the covers and tried to get to my feet, steadying myself with one hand on the bed as the room swam for a moment.
Once I'd balanced, I raised the T-shirt. Underneath it, my ribs were heavily bandaged, my left arm too, still aching, but no longer bleeding.
I raised a shaky hand to the swelling on my forehead. It had gone down a bit, but it still throbbed like a bastard. Every inch of me hurt.
Being Darrin's captive had been a nightmare, and I knew the PTSD would haunt me for a long while.
The dreams would come. The memories. The t
