Kai woke up on his kitchen floor again.
The third time this week, he realized as consciousness slowly returned along with the familiar ache that had become his constant companion. His neck was stiff from sleeping against the cabinet, and there was dried blood on his knuckles from where he'd apparently punched something during the night.
The refrigerator, he saw. There was a dent in the stainless steel door and red smears that matched the cuts on his hands.
He hauled himself up from the tiles, every muscle in his body screaming in protest. Two weeks since Aria had left Silver Creek territory. Fourteen days of slowly falling apart from the inside out while pretending everything was fine.
The coffee maker beeped, reminding him that he'd set it up before collapsing last night. Or this morning. The days and nights had started blending together into one endless cycle of pain and insomnia and the constant feeling that something vital had been torn out of his chest.
