I woke up with distinct feeling that someone had taken a cheese grater to my side. The room was dim, all dark wood and heavy velvet drapes—classic King family aesthetic. Oppressive luxury with a side of paranoia.
The door creaked open, and for a second, my pulse spiked—but then Leo stepped inside, looking like he hadn't slept in days. His shirt was rumpled, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms still smudged with my blood.
"Welcome back to the land of the living," he said, voice rough. "You were out for twelve hours."
"Miss me?" I tried to smirk, but it came out more like a wince.
Leo dragged a chair to my bedside and dropped into it, running a hand through his already-disheveled hair. "Yes."
His simple answer surprised me. So did the worry in his eyes.
I shifted, testing the limits of the painkillers. "Where's my mother?"
