Henry’s POV –"You don’t remember me,” he said, his voice gravelly and low, the kind that vibrated under your skin and lingered too long in your mind. “But I remember you."There was something about the way he stood half in shadow, face obscured by a hood and low-drawn cap that made the sterile hospital room suddenly feel like a trap. The soft beep of the monitor beside me seemed to slow, as if time itself were trying to process what was unfolding.“I was tasked with a single job," the man continued, his tone shifting from eerie calm to something more jagged, more unhinged. "To kill Freya. And you...” he took a single step forward, the floor creaking softly under his boot “...you just had to disrupt that.” His voice rose now, sharp and accusatory, echoing against the tiled walls.My heart thudded painfully in my chest. I could feel the blood drain from my face, but I forced myself upright, ignoring the sharp pull in my side. The stitches screamed, but I didn’t flinch. I needed to stay
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