Alex snorts softly. “Derek Pierce: famously gentle predator.”
I flip them off with both hands.
Mark grins, pleased. “There it is. You’re back.”
I settle into the chair again, forcing my body to stillness. Not because I’m calm. Because I’m practicing.
Audra stirs again, more deliberately this time. Her lashes flutter. Her face pinches like she’s trying to remember where she is and whether she should run.
She opens her eyes.
For a second, she looks straight through me. Fogged. Lost.
Then her gaze locks.
On me.
On Mark.
On Alex.
Her body tenses—shoulders tight, knees drawing in, instinctive defense.
I keep my voice low. Neutral. “Hey.”
Her mouth opens. Closes.
She swallows, eyes narrowing. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Not long,” I say. “Maybe twenty minutes.”
Mark leans forward with a grin that’s too bright for the moment. “More like forty-five.”
Audra’s eyes flick to him. A spark of irritation flickers—and relief, because irritation is something she understands. “Forty-five?”
“Time flies when you’re… involuntarily napping,” Alex offers, and the second it leaves his mouth he grimaces. “Okay, that sounded worse than I meant.”
Audra’s lips twitch once. Barely. Like she’s fighting the urge to laugh and hates herself for it.
Good.
I shift carefully, keeping my hands visible, my posture loose. “How’s your head?”
She blinks, and I watch the answer cross her face before she speaks it. “Better than earlier. Still… floaty.”
“Crackers?” Alex asks quickly, already half rising. “Water? Ginger ale? We’ve got options.”
Audra looks mildly alarmed by the sudden customer service. “I’m okay.”
“You’re not,” Mark says cheerfully. “But you’re going to be.”
She squints at him. “Are you always like this?”
“Yes,” Alex says. “Unfortunately.”
Audra’s gaze drifts past them, taking in my living room like she’s seeing it for the first time. The blanket—mine. The pillow behind her back—mine. The couch—mine.
Her attention returns to my face.
