JAXSON.
The first thing I felt was pain.
A slow, crawling ache that spread through every inch of me. My shoulder throbbed like someone had driven a hammer into it, and my head was pounding hard enough to drown out everything else.
There were voices — faint, far away, like they were speaking through water.
“Sir, can you hear me? Raise a finger if you can hear me.”
I tried. Nothing.
Then I whispered, or maybe I only thought I did, “Tessa.”
The sound of machines hummed somewhere close, steady, rhythmic, and alive. For a second, I wasn’t sure if that sound meant I was still alive too.
When I finally managed to open my eyes, white light stabbed at me. The ceiling was blindingly bright. My vision blurred, then slowly sharpened until I saw doctors moving around me. Checking my pulse. Flas
