My mind stirs before my body does.

Pain is the first thing I feel. Not sharp, but a bruised ache buried in my bones, whispering of what I’ve done to return. Each breath scrapes against the inside of my chest like wind against shattered glass. But it’s air. I’m breathing. My lungs, greedy and stubborn, fight to keep it. My heart follows, thumping slow, then faster, then steady.

I’m alive. Warmth is next.

Fingers cradle my face. I know the hand before I see it. It’s Kendric. The ...