VEGA POV
I wake up feeling like I have been hit by a train. My head is pounding with a dull, rhythmic throb, and my limbs feel like they are made of lead.
I hear the rhythmic sound of machines clicking in the background—the steady beep of a heart monitor. I force my heavy eyelids open and look around. The sterile white walls, the smell of antiseptic... I am in the hospital.
My memory is a fragmented mess. The last thing I remember was kneeling at my mother's grave, the rain soaking through my clothes, pouring my heart out to the cold stone. But now, I am here, dry and with an IV drip, in a hospital bed.
I sit up, groaning as the room spins slightly.
Vince, who was sleeping on the chair in the corner, immediately wakes up. He sees me moving and rushes over, his hands raised in a calming gesture. "Hey, hey, take it easy."
I rub my temple, trying to massage away the headache. "What happened?" my voice croaks, dry as sandpaper.
