Cael Alexander sat upright against the pillows wearing the dark recovery gown meant for patients in the hidden executive recovery suite within the labyrinth of walls behind the restricted area of the Artemis Tower. Although it was changed every day, he had spent the last several days feeling trapped inside a stiff set he could barely consider clothing. Monitoring wires disappeared beneath the fabric near his collarbone while an identification band still circled his wrist like an insult disguised as medical protocol.
Across the room, Seraphina Vale reviewed stabilization reports from a tablet near the observation wall while Galathea Brooks sat curled sideways on the charcoal sofa beneath one of the standing lamps, oversized cream sweater sleeves covering most of her hands.
The room remained comfortably quiet until Cael exhaled heavily and tugged irritably at the neckline of the gown.
Galathea looked up immediately. "What's wrong?"
