The drizzle was a mere whisper against the slick obsidian of my limousine, a stark contrast to the inferno I'd crawled out of. Each breath was a shallow victory against the persistent ache radiating from my back, a dull throb beneath the hastily applied bandages. My palm, still sticky with dried blood, protested the slightest movement. The pain lodged in my abdomen felt like a malevolent guest, a constant reminder of Caden's desperate, savage attack. My shoulder, a fiery inferno, was a testament to a fight I should have lost, but hadn't.
Gray shoved an energy bar into my hand earlier. I didn't argue. I hadn't eaten in over two days or is it three already? And I needed to stay upright long enough to remind the board who they were dealing with.
