Chapter 7

Morning light in the fishing cottage always carried a salty, humid warmth. On the seventh morning, as that same warm light filtered through the window and fell across the edge of the bed, Zane slowly stretched his body.

He had already quietly removed his bandages. The vicious wounds that had once stretched across his chest and abdomen had faded to a few shallow, pale pink marks.

His broken ribs had long since healed solidly, and even the injury to his spine had completely recovered.