ISLA'S POV.

That night, I stirred beneath the soft weight of my comforter, my skin clammy and my head pounding with a dull ache. A groan escaped my lips as I blinked against the dark, lifting a hand to press the heel of my palm to my aching temple. My throat was dry and and even chill danced across my skin despite the warmth of my room.

"Ugh," I muttered hoarsely, my voice scratchy. "Why now?"

I kicked the covers off and swung my legs over the side of the bed, wincing when the cool air ...