Even half-conscious, I recognized it instantly.
Not because of the authority in it.
Because of the panic.
I had never heard panic in Rafael Pérez’s voice before.
“Keep her awake,” he barked.
The command echoed through the haze surrounding me.
“I don’t care what you have to do. If there’s a specialist needed, bring them. If there’s treatment she requires, she gets it.”
“Sir, her condition is stable—“
Rafael replied immediately, but his words blurred together before I could make sense of them.
The voices around me faded in and out, muffled and distorted, as though I were listening from the bottom of deep water.
A few seconds passed—or perhaps several minutes. I couldn’t tell.
Slowly, the darkness loosened its grip on me.
The void that had swallowed everything began to crack, allowing fragments of the world to seep through.
The steady beeping of machines reached me first, followed by the low hum of hospital equipment and the sterile scent of antiseptic hanging in the air.
Awareness returned in painful increments, pulling me upward through layers of exhaustion and cold until consciousness finally broke the surface.
Every part of my body hurt.
My back throbbed with a deep, relentless ache.
My shoulders felt as though they had been crushed beneath stone.
My legs were heavy and weak, every muscle screaming in protest.
Even drawing a breath hurt.
The cold still lingered beneath my skin, buried so deeply it felt fused to my bones.
Snow.
The memory returned in fragments.
The relentless storm.
The freezing wind clawing at my face.
The crushing weight pressing down on me as the snow piled higher and higher.
The helplessness.
“Sir.”
A calmer voice broke through the memory.
“She’s awake.”
