Colter's POV
Something felt off when consciousness pulled me from sleep this morning. The wrongness of it set every instinct on high alert. I had overslept, something that never happened to me. My internal clock always dragged me awake before dawn, regardless of how little rest I'd gotten the night before.
But more unsettling than the late hour was how I felt. Completely at ease. Not a single muscle protested. My head remained clear despite the absence of caffeine coursing through my system.
I examined my injured hand, finding only smooth skin marked by a faint red line where the gash had been. The wound had vanished entirely, healed with impossible speed. Yet I could still feel the ghost of her touch, the gentle way she had cradled my damaged flesh as though it were something worth protecting.
Only one person had ever touched me with such tenderness. Mother. My throat constricted at the memory, forcing me to clear it roughly as I pushed myself from the bed toward the bathroom.
