Aurora’s POV

The room door creaked open, and Ryan stepped in. “Hey, I knew you’d be awake this morning,” he said, walking toward the bed with a shopping bag dangling from his hand.

Manuel and I turned our heads at the same time.

“How are you feeling?” Ryan asked, setting the bag on the small table beside the bed.

“Less pain,” Manuel said, adjusting himself against the pillow. “But the bullet wound still hurts.” His voice was low, edged with fatigue.

“What?” I asked, ...