Book 3: Sunshine

Eleni

I blink awake to something warm on my face. My stomach grumbles threateningly around its emptiness, and I start to sit up to find the bedpan.

Something restrains my left arm. Two somethings.

I turn slowly in the sun-drenched bed, fighting for enough memories to put together where I am. The first something is Dante, slumped in an armchair from the living room of the safe house upstate but still holding onto my hand. He looks actually, properly relaxed, his brow unlined for once. The sun sparkles off something in our entwined hands, and for a heart-racing moment, I think he found my engagement ring. But no, he’s slipped his ring onto my thumb, where it barely fits. Tears fill my eyes as I manage a wobbly smile.

The second something is an IV full of clear liquid. Unlabeled bag. My arm aches—everything does—but I feel steadier than I have in ages. Like sleep actually refreshed me. I can even tell someone did something to my mouth because it