Alexander Vale 30    

When Celeste woke again, everything felt soft.

Warm.

There was no cold concrete beneath her, no rough ropes digging into her skin. Instead, the faint scent of antiseptic filled the air, the steady beeping of machines lulling in the background.

A hospital.

She recognized the pristine white ceiling tiles, the heavy blankets tucked securely around her. Her body felt floaty, disconnected, as if she had been drugged. Her throat was dry, aching.

I'm alive.

Celeste exhaled slowly, her mind still foggy, but one thought stood out through the haze.

Alexander Vale.

Was he the one who came for her? Did he send those men?

Her lips curled slightly, a whisper of a smirk.

Of course, he did.

The door creaked open, and then he stepped in—the man himself, in all his glory.

Alexander Vale.