Ash's POV
I woke up alone.
The bed was still warm on his side, sheets rumpled where his body had been, but the space next to me was empty. Cool air rushed in to fill it. I exhaled so hard my lungs ached, relief flooding through me like cold water on fevered skin. He was gone. For now.
I sat up slowly, testing my ribs. The ache was there—dull, nagging—but nothing like last night. No fresh blood seeped through the wrap. I peeled back the edge of my shirt and checked. Bruises had already faded to sickly yellow-green, the deepest cuts sealed into thin pink lines. Silver blood.
Always faster, always stronger, always a curse wrapped in a gift. Those boys who jumped me the day before better watch their backs. I’d remember their faces. One by one, when the time was right, I’d make them pay.
