Rhea
The first thing I feel is the pain. It isn't just a dull ache. It's a blinding, white-hot agony that radiates from every inch of my body. It feels like I’ve been hit by a truck, then dragged for miles over jagged rocks. My heart thumps loudly in my chest, the sound echoing in my ears like a frantic drum, as I force my eyes to open.
I let out a low groan, the sound catching in my dry, raw throat. Everything is too bright. I squint my eyes against the harsh light, waiting for my vision to stop swimming. As the room slowly comes into focus, I realize I’m not in the pack hospital. There are no sterile white walls or the smell of antiseptic here. Instead, I’m lying in a massive, four-poster bed with silk sheets. The room is luxurious, filled with heavy velvet curtains and expensive oak f
