|Grace|
The hospital room was too quiet, too sterile. The faint beeping of the machines monitoring my vitals was a steady reminder of why I was there in the first place. But it wasn’t the beeping or the smell of antiseptic that held my attention; it was the flickering television screen in front of me.
I hadn’t slept well since the poisoning. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the face of Kathryn, the one I’d trusted with my body, my training—my life. And now, every breath felt like a struggle, like my lungs hadn’t fully recovered from the toxin that had tried to take me down. But even as the discomfort lingered, there was a strange sense of clarity in the wake of everything that had happened.
A sense of finality.
On the screen, Keith’s face appeared, gaunt and haggard, a far cry from
