The plane touched down on the tarmac just after noon. The weather was clear. The landing was smooth. And for a moment, Celeste thought she might actually make it through the day without unraveling.
A suited driver greeted her at the terminal, holding a placard with her name — no questions, no stares. Damien had arranged everything.
The car was sleek and quiet, windows tinted, leather seats cool beneath her fingertips. The city outside was louder than she remembered — not the literal sound, but the energy. It pressed against the windows, intrusive and impatient, like it knew who she was beneath the surface.
As they turned off the highway toward the road that led to Leon's address, her phone buzzed again.
Leon.
She didn't answer.
She stared at his name, thumb hovering over the screen, breath caught in her throat.
Then everything changed.
A horn.
Tires screaming.
A flash of metal — too fast to make sense of.
And then:
Impact.
The world tilted sideways.
Glass shattered like ice.
The car spun, once, twice—
A crunch of steel, the scream of brakes, the thud of her head against the window—
Darkness.
Complete and absolute.
Hours Later
The Hospital
Machines beeped in steady rhythm. The trauma room was bright and cold, the air saturated with antiseptic and urgency. Nurses moved quickly. A doctor issued orders with clipped precision. CT scans were ordered. Internal bleeding ruled out. Skull fracture confirmed.
Coma. Induced.
For now, her body was still functioning. Her pulse held. Her lungs moved with the ventilator's rhythm. But the rest of her — the part that mattered — was silent.
No one knew who she was when she arrived.
No ID on her. No name spoken. Just a bloodied girl in a black coat with eyes that never opened.
But soon… someone would come looking.
And the past she was running to?
Would now have to wait for her.