Chapter 3: The Cliff's Edge": """
Alina awoke in the unfamiliar cabin with the taste of pine on her tongue and a dull ache behind her eyes. Her dreams had been fragments—jewels sparkling in glass cases, flashes of an angry voice, champagne glasses clinking. But they dissolved like smoke as her eyes opened.
She blinked up at the ceiling beams of the log cabin. Everything smelled of wood and warmth. A soft blanket was tucked around her. She tried to sit up but winced as pain surged through her ribs.
The door creaked open. Jace stepped in, carrying a steaming mug. "You're awake," he said, his voice calm but alert. "I figured you'd be sore."
"I don't know where I am," she said slowly. "I don't remember… anything."
Jace nodded and handed her the mug. "You're in my cabin. I found you near the ridge trail, unconscious."
She looked into his eyes, trying to place him, trying to ground herself. But nothing came. No names, no places. Just silence.
He knelt beside the bed. "What's the last thing you remember?"
"Falling," she whispered.
"You fell hard," he said. "Hit your head. You've got a nasty bruise. But you're safe now."
Tears stung her eyes. "I don't even know my name."
"We'll figure it out," Jace said softly. "One day at a time."