Maria woke to the sound of rain.It drummed softly against the cabin roof, steady and relentless, like a countdown she couldn’t see. For a moment, she lay still, her body heavy, every muscle aching as if she’d been pulled apart and stitched back together wrong. Then memory slammed into her Leonardo’s voice, the gunshot, darkness.She bolted upright.Pain flared along her ribs, sharp enough to steal her breath. She clenched her teeth and forced herself to focus. The cabin was dim, lit only by a lantern hanging from a nail in the wall. The air smelled of antiseptic, damp wood, and blood.“Easy.”Elias’s voice came from the corner. He was seated at a small table, cleaning his rifle with slow, deliberate movements. He didn’t look at her, but somehow she knew he was watching her reflection in the darkened window.“Where’s Marko?” she demanded.“Alive,” Elias said. “For now.”That was not reassuring.Maria swung her legs over the side of the mattress, ignoring the dizziness that followed. Ma
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