Ezra's POVThe ticking of the heart monitor had become the rhythm of my own pulse. For seven days, I had lived within the four walls of ICU Room 402, a space that smelled of ozone, sterile plastic, and the lingering, metallic ghost of death. I had ignored Andrea’s constant briefings on the final liquidation of the Sokolov assets. I had ignored the urgent calls from my father. I had ignored the sun rising and setting through the slats of the blinds.I sat by her bed, my hand folded over hers—carefully, as if her skin were made of spun glass. I had scrubbed the blood from my skin a hundred times, but in the quiet hours of the night, I still felt the phantom heat of it soaking through my shirt.Then, the world shifted.The rhythm of her breathing changed—a small, hitching catch that wasn't the mechanical sigh of the machines. Her eyelids, thin and translucent as parchment, flickered. Then slowly, with an effort that seemed to drain the very air from the room, they dragged open.Her eyes
Last Updated : 2026-03-01 Read more