Beeping machines. Antiseptic smell. Hushed voices.
Sarah drifted through layers of consciousness, pain ebbing and flowing like the tide. Sometimes Diego's voice reached her through the fog, urgent and tender. Other times, unfamiliar medical terms floated past.
"...blood pressure stabilizing..." "...lucky the bullet missed major arteries..." "...need to move her soon..."
Time became meaningless—minutes or days, she couldn't tell. Until finally, awareness returned with jarring clarity.
Sarah opened her eyes to a dimly lit room that was definitely not a hospital. Medical equipment surrounded her, but the space looked more like a luxury apartment. Large windows revealed a view of mountains and forest.
"Welcome back," Diego said softly from beside her.
He looked terrible—unshaven, exhausted, with dark circles beneath his eyes. But his smile was radiant with relief.
"Where...?" Her voice came out raspy from disuse.
"Switzerland," Diego supplied, offering her water through a straw. "One of V
