Lola’s POV

By dawn, the hospital was quiet again. The storm of healers and warriors had calmed, leaving only the hum of machines and the faint smell of disinfectant in the corridors.

The lights were dim, soft enough to cast tired shadows on everyone’s faces.

Flint was still unconscious inside the operating room. The red light had gone dark, replaced by a low, steady beeping that reminded everyone he was still breathing.

Every time that faint rhythm skipped, my heart seemed to stop with ...