The first thing Stefan felt was the heaviness in his chest — as if an iron hand was pressing down on it. His eyelids fluttered, resisting him for a moment before finally lifting.
The harsh glow of the hospital lights stabbed at his eyes, and for a moment he didn't know where he was. The antiseptic scent, the muffled sounds of footsteps in the corridor, the quiet beeping of machines near his bed — it all came rushing back to him.
He turned his head sharply, ignoring the throbbing ache that immediately followed the movement. Panic surged in his veins before his lips even formed the words.
"Ruby…" His voice cracked, raw from smoke and exhaustion. He tried again, louder this time. "Ruby. Where is she? Is she awake yet?"
A shadow shifted in the chair by his bedside. Ethan leaned forward, his face drawn with fatigue.
His expression softened at Stefan's urgency, but his eyes held a weight that Stefan instantly recognized.
