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Eggs. Toast. Tea I don’t drink. I curl up on the couch with the plate, flicking the TV on low for some background noise and eat slowly, Merlyn curled at my feet.

The TV murmurs quietly in the background, a re-run of some cooking show playing with cheerful commentary that doesn’t quite match the storm still rolling in my chest.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, I drift, the emotion and exhaustion wiping out all my energy.

Click.

The sound startles me awake.

Merlyn stirs at my feet.

I blink sleepily, disoriented. The TV is still playing. The house is still dim. I note that the time on the clock in the corner of the screen says 07:15am.

I hear a soft creak near the door.

Merlyn stands.

Tail high, ears pricked up, the fur along her spine raised, as she begins to growl low in her throat.

I rise, half-groggy, and open the front door.

A shadow steps forward.

My brain barely has time to process the shape of him.

The smirk.

The cold glint in his eyes.

“Hey there, Laney,” Randy says. “Did you miss me?”

Then pain slams into my neck like a lightning bolt.

The stun gun makes no sound—just the searing flash of electric fire that arcs through every nerve in my body.

I gasp. My knees buckle.

The world spins sideways.

And just before the dark takes me, I hear Merlyn growling—feral, furious, protecting.

Then everything goes black.

37.Eddie

The automatic doorsslide open with a whisper of chilled air as Nico and I step into the hospital lobby. It smells like bleach and worry. The kind of scent that clings to your skin and settles in your throat.

I’ve barely slept. I haven’t even changed out of my stage clothes. My boots still carry dust from the London arena, and my body’s running on nothing but adrenaline and fear.

Nico’s at my side, silent and alert, his gaze sweeping the space like he’s expecting something to go wrong at any second. Knowing him, he probably is.

I head for the main desk, heart pounding. “We’re looking for a patient—Joey Ryan. Four years old. His parents are Lucas and Sam Ryan.”

The nurse glances up from her computer. “Are you family?”

“Yeah,” I say without hesitation. “We are.”

She nods once, tapping at her keyboard. “He’s in post-op recovery on Pediatric Level Two. Do you want me to see if one of the parents can come out?”