LISA’S POV
White hospital walls.
The steady beep of machines.
The sharp sting of IV fluids sliding into my veins.
I was alive.
Barely.
The bullet had missed anything vital, but the pain was still raw—muscle torn, skin stitched, blood replaced.
I stared at the ceiling, letting the rhythm of the monitors lull me into a false calm.
But my mind wasn’t calm.
My mind was at war.
Alice.
That name pulsed louder than the machines.
She shot me.
My so-called best friend shot me.
And now?
Now she’d pay for it.
FOUR HOURS LATER
The morphine was fading, but my anger stayed sharp.
Liam sat beside me, his jaw tight, his hand wrapped around mine.
His thumb grazed my wrist like he was afraid I’d disappear if he let go.
“I’m fine,” I whispered, voice hoarse but steady.
“You were shot, Li
