Pain radiated through my shoulder, sharp and unrelenting, as I blinked my eyes open. The room was dim, but I could make out the familiar surroundings of my bedroom. Slowly, the memories filtered back—the warehouse, the gunfire, and that bullet that tore through my shoulder when I moved to shield Grace.
Grace.
I turned my head and saw her slumped in a chair next to my bed, her hand resting lightly on my arm. She looked exhausted, her face pale and her hair tangled, but she was still here. She hadn’t left. The sight of her there, even after everything, stirred something deep inside me. It was a strange feeling—one I wasn’t sure how to process. Relief, maybe. Or guilt. Or something worse.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts. Tony and Chad slipped into the room quietly, both of them exchan
