Lila
I woke to the sharp ache of my own body reminding me I was still alive. Every muscle screamed when I shifted, my ribs sore, my skin burning where bruises had blossomed overnight.
For one breath I thought I was back in the forest clearing, claws scraping, teeth flashing. My chest seized as though I’d been dragged there again.
But when my eyes blinked open, it was only the dim light of the hideout. The fire had burned low, casting the room in orange glow and shadows. And Ronan was there.
He sat in the chair beside the cot, broad shoulders hunched forward, forearms braced on his knees. His eyes flicked up the instant I stirred, taking inventory of my injuries. Relief washed over his face in a way that made my throat tighten.
“You’re awake,” he said simply, as though he hadn’t be
