Sera’s pov:
I woke up with a chest so tight that it hurt to breathe. Every time I close my eyes, I see it again: the red staining his shirt, the way Damien’s knees buckled.
I didn’t bother with a mirror. I didn’t brush my hair or find a proper outfit. I just threw on a heavy sweater and ran, my heart hammering against my ribs, until I reached the medical wing.
The air there was cold. It smelled like iron and that sharp, biting scent of hospital cleaner.
He’s awake.
Damien was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back slightly hunched as if the weight of the ceiling was resting on his shoulders. He was shirtless, a thick white bandage wrapped around his torso and shoulder, stark against his skin. He was just staring at his own hands, his dark hair messy and falling into his eyes. He loo
