Chapter Hundred and Twenty-One
A faint rustle stirred the quiet room. Matilda's eyelashes fluttered, her brow knitting as consciousness crept back in.
The sterile scent of antiseptic lingered in her nostrils, mingling with the faint aroma of clean linen. Her shoulder throbbed with a dull, persistent ache that pulsed with each heartbeat.
She attempted to sit up, but a sharp gasp escaped her lips as pain lanced through her arm. The sudden movement sent a wave of dizziness crashing over her.
"Easy," Markus's voice cut through the haze. It was firm yet gentle. He was at her side in an instant, with his hands steadying her as she struggled to rise.
"I need to change," she murmured, her voice hoarse.
He reached for a neatly folded set of clothes on the nearby chair. It was a soft, oversized hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. "Here," he said, handing them to her. "Take your time." pointing at her shoulders.
