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My eyes opened.
Light stabbed me right in the skull.
I winced and closed my eyes again, hissing as I slowly sank back into my body and stopped floating in some place I couldn’t remember. My ribs and hip ached from the car accident, and the stitches in my shoulder caught on the sheets behind me. All the bruises from the men beating me up that night did their best to make me suffer, but those pains were nothing to the aftershocks of flames that’d scorched my entire body.
A shuffle of clothes before someone rested their hand on my shoulder and leaned over me. A mask was removed from my mouth and nose, taking away the faint breeze of air.
I froze as my eyes locked on Cem Kara.
I tried to speak, but my throat was too dry.
I went to push him away, yet only succeeded in raising my hands a little. Hands that were slightly grey while my left one was stabbed with an IV. My lion and siren tattoo glinted in the sunlight beaming through the open windows. The ink was overly perfect, freshly done with crisp, sharp lines.
My chest tightened; my cracked ribs pinched.
Neri’s birthday.
A night that’d started off so well but then turned to absolute shit.
Is she okay?
Fuck, she’ll be so worried—
“If you’re concerned about your complexion, rest assured you’re looking a thousand times better than before. The intravenous antibiotics have combated your infection. You’re on the mend,” Cem breathed as if truly relieved. “It was touch-and-go for a while, but you’re a fighter.” He smiled. “Like me.”
My skin crawled from him touching me, and despite my weakness, dizziness, and pain, I did my best to sit up. I wanted to run. I needed to get back on a plane and return to Neri.
You can’t.
You’re forbidden from going back there.
Nausea splashed on my tongue, and fresh pain centred in my chest.
Fuck, Neri, I’m so sorry—
“Easy. It’s okay. You’re safe.” Cem shook his head, patting my shoulder as if he truly cared. “Don’t fight the process of waking up. You’ve been unconscious for six days. It’s natural to be weak.”
Six days?
Six
DAYS?
How?
Fuck.
Neri.
The phone call.
The shot to my leg.
Then nothing...
My eyes flew wide as I locked on my biological father. He’d aged from some of the images I’d found on Google. His hair silvered at his temples and was mussed as if he’d been running his hands through it. The lines around his eyes seemed deeper, and the creases around his mouth hinted at all the rage and violence he held back, camouflaged with a smile.
“W-Where...” I licked my lips and swallowed. “Where am I?”
