Avyanne's pov

The second morning in Logan’s wing started the way the first had ended so mercilessly. It was

like he targeted me to make life harder for me daily.

“Up,” his voice cut through the dawn, cold as the wind that rattled against the tall windows.

My body screamed in protest as I pushed myself from the mattress. Every muscle ached, stiff

from the brutal drills he had put me through the night before. Sleep hadn’t healed me; it had only

deepened the exhaustion.

Logan stood at ...