Selene's POV
I didn't sleep.
Not really.
I drifted in and out of something that looked like sleep — eyes closed, body still, mind absolutely refusing to stop. Every time I got close to under, I'd see the attacker's face. The moment the knife went in. The way he folded.
By four in the morning, I gave up entirely.
Damon slept beside me, his breathing slower than usual, heavier.
Draven had given him something for the pain — not enough to fully sedate him, just enough to take the edge off.
His shoulder was wrapped tight, white bandage already showing a faint rust-colored stain where the wound had seeped overnight.
I watched him breathe.
Counted the rises and falls of his chest like I was afraid he'd stop if I looked away.
He's fine, I told myself. He's here. You got him back.
The thought didn't help as much as I'd hoped.
