The hospital smell hit me the second we stepped into the corridor—bleach, antiseptic, and something faintly metallic that always put me on edge. I hated hospitals. They felt far too sterile. Way too much Too many things out of your control.
Cameron was beside me, silent now. We passed a nurse's station where one of the nurses looked up and did a double take; maybe recognizing me or whatever, I could care less.
We made it to Room 207.
I didn't knock.
I pushed the door open—and there she was.
Isabella.
She was sitting up on the bed, her left ankle wrapped and propped on a pillow. There was a faint bruise just under her knee. Her hoodie sleeves were pulled up to her elbows and her hair was in a loose, tired, knot.
Aria was beside her, halfway through opening a snack cup of jelly.
A nurse was in the corner, checking something on the monitor.
Her head snapped up when I entered.
"Adrien." Her voice was soft, surprised.
