The world returned in shattered fragments, each one a little more agonizing than the last. My head pounded with a slow, relentless pulse, like I'd spent the night swallowing nails and fiberglass. My ribs felt splintered, skin scraped raw, each bruise throbbing in a relentless rhythm, matching the beat of the amber shard lodged where my heart should be. It was still dark.

I lay there, blinking against the dimness, the air stale and thick, trying to piece together where I was and how I'd ended up helpless on the cold, unforgiving floor. The room was empty—too empty. Kane must have woken before me and left me here, bound to a metal beam bolted to the floor behind me. A practical touch of cruelty, perfectly in line with his style.

I twisted my wrists, the ropes biting deep, the fibers grinding against my skin, numbing my hands until they felt like dead weights. Each pull drained what little energy I had left. Pathetic. At least he left Frank. The jacket lay far out of reach, sprawled on a crate like a discarded hope, mocking me with the memory of freedom. He was worse for wear, torn and ragged, having taken the brunt of the force. Without him, I’d be dead tonight. But just as he could heal me, he needed me to heal him.

The silence broke—not with a crash, but a whisper, soft steps too light for human feet. I froze, tension coiling up my spine, twisting tighter with each shallow breath. Something was moving, slow and cautious, somewhere just out of sight. My breath hitched, panic flooding in as I strained my neck, forcing my head up despite the throbbing ache. If it was a demon, even a Lesser, I was done for.

The steps crept closer, almost hesitant, padding lightly over the floor. I held my breath, fighting the urge to close my eyes and wait for whatever horror was coming. And then, through the haze of dread, I saw him—Sarge. Scruffy and beautiful. His fur was tangled, one ear flopped over in its usual, ridiculous way, his eyes wide with a kind of wild concern. Relief hit me like a punch to the chest.

“Sarge!” My voice was raw. “You beautiful little mutt… what are you doing here?”

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He tilted his head, his big, soulful eyes locking onto mine, his tongue lolling out slightly, panting as if to say, You did it again, didn’t you? You got yourself in a mess.

A bad idea surfaced. No, not just bad—stupid. Dangerous. Frank was going to hate it.

“Go get Frank,” I said, nodding at the jacket. Sarge blinked at me, head tilting to the other side as if to say, What? I jerked my head toward the jacket again, feeling desperation spike my voice. “Come on, boy. Go get Frank.”

Sarge whined, stepping closer, nudging my shoulder with his cold nose like he thought he could lift me himself. His breath was warm against my cheek, his eyes filled with a worry that twisted my insides. “I’d love to get up, buddy, really, but I can’t,” I said, voice softer. “I need Frank. Remember him? The cranky one... well, crankier.”

He looked at me, and I swear I saw it—a flicker of understanding in those eyes, a flash of recognition. Sarge was always more than just a dog. He was family, and right then, he seemed to know exactly how deep I was in. My throat tightened. “I don’t look too good, do I, boy? But I’m going to be okay.” My voice was a rasp, barely holding steady. “I just need you to help me. Can you do that? Can you fetch my jacket? Fetch Frank?” I gestured with my head and eyes.

He let out a low whine, his ears drooping for a moment before finally turning toward the jacket. Step by step, he padded over, pausing halfway to glance back at me, his eyes filled with that familiar loyalty. “That’s it… that's a good boy,” I said. “Now… get Frank. Go on—you can do it.”

He moved closer, nose brushing against the fabric, his body tense. I held my breath, watching as he sniffed, hesitating, then leaning in deeper, his nose pressing into the jacket.

The air changed. It was subtle, but it shifted—like the moment before lightning hits, the air charged with something dangerous. Sarge froze, head tilted, his body trembling like he was trying to hear something from far away. I felt hope, tiny and fragile, blossom inside me.

I sent a silent prayer to whatever gods might be listening.