Bridget’s POV“Heads up, Chiara’s here,” Kiera said, running back to the room with cups of steaming hot coffee. She handed me a cup.

Dad was asleep on his cot. After a stressful night, he had been too tired to keep his eyes open in the morning. The healer said he should make a good recovery but I was still worried about him. My father was my ally, the only friend and support system I had.

He understood me. We shared the same goals and ambitions. I always believed he would make a good ...