Elena’s POV

I woke up to the same dull throb in my arm and the same wrong-side-of-the-bed feeling that had followed me since the restaurant. My old bedroom still smelled faintly of laundry detergent and the lemon polish Dad used on the dresser.

For a second, I forgot where I was.

Then I tried to move.

Pain pulled sharply through my arm, dragging the memories back with it,the restaurant, the gunshot, Damien, the blood.

I closed my eyes and breathed slowly until the ache settled into something bearable.

Getting out of bed took longer than it should have. I swung my legs over the side, braced my good hand against...