Dreaming right?!

Vera

Pain had a name.

It tore through my body so violently that my eyes flew open on a ragged gasp. Air rushed into my lungs, as if breathing had become something my body no longer knew how to do.

For several seconds I couldn’t move. I simply stared at the unfamiliar ceiling above me, blinking slowly while my heart pounded against my ribs. It was white and smooth, nothing like the rough concrete of that rooftop or the endless gray sky I had been falling toward.

I swallowed, and the movement sent another wave of pain racing through my throat and chest. My eyes darted around the room. It was a large bedroom with floor-to-ceiling windows covered by dark curtains, cream-colored walls, and a cold fireplace beneath a framed landscape painting.

Everything looked expensive. My gaze dropped to the thick blanket covering me, then to the white bandages wrapped around both arms.

My right wrist was splinted and several fingers were wrapped individually. I lifted my hand instinctively. The motion barely lasted a second before pain forced it back onto the mattress.

“God,” I whispered.

What happened?

No. I knew exactly what had happened.

The rain. The rooftop. Ethan. His hands and then the shove.

My stomach lurched so suddenly I thought I might be sick. I squeezed my eyes shut. I had fallen forty stories. I remembered looking up and seeing Ethan standing on the edge, watching me.

This wasn’t possible. Nobody survived that kind of fall.

I pressed trembling fingers against my ribs, feeling the thick bandages and fresh stitches. Every inch of me hurt with real, demanding pain. Which meant I was alive.

The thought settled inside me with surprising force. Confusion. Why?

A quiet click of heels interrupted my thoughts as the bedroom door opened. I turned my head too quickly, and pain exploded through my neck.

A woman in dark gray scrubs stepped inside carrying a tray. She looked about forty, with blond hair tied neatly behind her head. She smiled the moment she saw my eyes open.

“You’re awake,” she said, placing the tray on a nearby table.

I stared at her. “Where am I?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead she walked toward me with a glass of water. “You shouldn’t try talking too much yet.”

“I asked where I am.” My voice cracked painfully.

She helped me sit slightly higher against the pillows and held the glass toward me. “Small sips.”

“I don’t want water. I need answers.”

Her expression stayed calm and professional. She waited until I finally accepted the glass. The water felt good against my dry throat. When I finished, she took it back.

“Better?”

“No.” I studied her face, but saw nothing—no recognition, no fear, no curiosity. Just professionalism.

“Is this the hospital?”

“No.”

The single word sharpened every instinct I had. “If this isn’t a hospital, then where am I?”

“I’m not authorized to answer that.”

A cold feeling spread through my chest. Authorized? Who needed authorization to tell someone where they were?

I looked around the room again. No medical equipment, no nurses, no emergency buttons. Just heavy furniture, a wardrobe, a sitting area, one door that probably led to a bathroom, and one leading outside.

The woman noticed my gaze toward the door. “You shouldn’t stand.”

“I wasn’t planning to.” That was a lie. The moment she left, I intended to try.

She checked the dressing around my wrist and examined the stitches near my shoulder. “You’ve been unconscious for four days.”

“Four days?” I stared at her.

“Your body needed time.” She finished checking my bandages. “You’ll recover.”

“Recover?” I almost laughed. “My husband tried to murder me, I don't think I can recover from that”

Her hands paused for a second, then continued working. “I know.”

“What?”

She nodded once. “He told us enough.”

Us? Before I could ask more, she stepped away. “I’ll inform them you’ve awakened.”

“Them? Who the fuck is that?”

She reached the door. “They’ve been waiting.” The door closed quietly behind her.

The room suddenly felt enormous. Waiting? Are they police? Or People Ethan had hired to finish what he started?

Panic surged through me. I threw the blanket aside, ignoring the scream of pain in both legs. I bit down hard and swung my feet toward the floor. The moment they touched it, my knees nearly collapsed.

Oh Gawwd everything hurts. I grabbed the bedside table for support and forced myself upright. My legs trembled violently, but I moved. One foot, then another. By the time I reached the bedroom door, sweat covered my forehead.

I wrapped my fingers around the handle, pulled it open, and stepped into a wide hallway. Dark wooden floors stretched beneath me, stone walls rose on either side, and large windows overlooked endless mountains dusted with late spring snow.

Snow and mountains? I was still trying to register it..

But just then voices drifted toward me—male voices.

“…she’ll need another week.”

“No.” The second voice was lower and colder. “Three days.”

“Three days? She’s barely alive.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

Something about that voices felt familiar. I think I had heard it somewhere, probably on television, in interviews or even news reports.

My heart pounded harder as I took another step forward.

Then footsteps came toward me fast. Instinct made me step backward and my injured ankle gave out.

I stumbled hard and was about to fall, but a strong hand caught my elbow.

“Easy.”

I looked up. The man holding me was tall with broad shoulders, wearing a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms. Dark hair framed a face with piercing gray eyes that studied me with complete indifference.

Omg…

I recognized him immediately from magazine covers, business summits, and headlines. Jude Draven. One of the Three Lycan Kings.

He released my arm the second I regained my balance. No concern. No apology. Nothing.

He simply looked at me. “So. You’re finally awake.”

My mouth went dry. “No…”

I looked past him. Two more men had appeared at the end of the hallway, both equally recognizable.

The tallest had striking blue eyes and stood with his arms folded. The third carried an intensity that made my heart beat faster. These were the men governments negotiated with.

The rulers of the Central North Territories. Fucking monsters in human form. All three of them stood in front of me now.

I am dreaming right now right? Because in no actual way I'm definitely seeing these men with my eyes.

My pulse thundered in my ears. I took another step backward. “This isn’t real.”

“It is,” Jude said, his voice perfectly calm.

“What am I doing here?” I asked, my breathing ragged.

None of them answered right away. The tallest of the other two swept his blue eyes over my bandages before settling on my face.

“That’s the first sensible question you’ve asked.”

I stared between them. The memory of the rooftop slammed back into me—the rain, Ethan’s shove, the fall.

I looked back at Jude. “Did you save me?”

Silence stretched for a moment. None of them looked proud or sympathetic. It was almost as though saving my life had been an inconvenience.

Finally Jude spoke. “Yes.”

“What? Wait…Why?”

The three men exchanged a look. A silent conversation passed between them.

When Jude turned back to me, there was no warmth in his eyes. “That answer is the only reason you’re still alive, Vera Lancaster.”