Jackson's POV
The digital clock on the bedside table read 03:15. I didn't need to look at it to know. My internal rhythm was already calibrated to the 0400 drills, a biological ticking that felt less like a pulse and more like a countdown.
Amethyst was still asleep beside me, her breathing shallow and hitched. Even in sleep, her brow was furrowed, her mind likely trapped in the same misty, silver corridors that haunted mine. I stayed still for a moment, watching the way the moonlight caught the pale curve of her shoulder. This—this quiet, fragile peace—was what I was destroying to save. Every drill, every suppressed howl, every ounce of spirit I drained from my pack was a coin spent to buy her survival.
I sat up, the mattress creaking under my weight. My joints felt like they were fille
