Angelina’s POV

Grace Sterling, Aria’s Mom arrived thirty minutes later.

I heard her before I saw her—the rapid footsteps in the hallway, the breathless way she called my name.

“Aria! Aria, where is she?”

The door burst open.

She looked exactly like the memories showed me. Mid-forties, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, wearing a stained restaurant uniform that smelled like grease and soy sauce. Pretty face, worn down by years of exhaustion. Crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes.

But right now those eyes were wild with panic.

“Oh my God.” Her voice cracked when she saw me sitting on the chair in the principal’s office. “Oh my God, baby, are you—”

She was on me in seconds. Hands everywhere, checking my arms, my legs, tilting my head to look at my neck.

“Did you hit your head? Are you dizzy? Does anything hurt? Your back? Your neck?”

“Mom, I’m fine—”

“Three floors!” Her hands were shaking. “Ms. Wilson said three floors! You could’ve died! You could’ve—”

“But I didn’t.” I caught her hands, held them still. “Look at me. Not a scratch.”

She stared at me. Then pulled me into a hug so tight I could barely breathe.

The original Aria’s memories supplied the context. Grace worked ten-hour shifts at a Chinese restaurant six days a week. Came home smelling like kitchen grease every night. Brought back leftovers because it saved on groceries.

This woman had probably left work the second the school called, didn’t even stop to change.

And now she was crying into my hair.

“We’re going to the hospital,” she said. “Right now. I don’t care what the school nurse said, you’re getting a full exam.”

“Mrs. Sterling—” Ms. Wilson started.

“Thank you for calling me.” Grace’s voice went hard. “But we’re leaving.”

She grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door.

Nobody argued.

The Pack hospital was on the edge of town.

Grace drove like a maniac the whole way, checking on me every thirty seconds.

“Does your head hurt?”

“No.”

“Your chest? Ribs?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? Sometimes injuries don’t show up right away—”

“Mom. I’m fine.”

She white-knuckled the steering wheel. “You jumped out a window.”

“I fell.”

“That’s not what Ms. Wilson said.”

I didn’t answer.

We pulled into the hospital parking lot at 7pm.

The examination took two hours.

“Everything looks normal,” he said finally, frowning at the charts like they’d personally offended him. “No fractures, no internal bleeding, no concussion.”

“That’s impossible,” Grace said. “She fell three stories.”

“I’m aware.” He looked at me. “You’re extremely lucky, young lady.”

Lucky. Right.

More like I landed like I’ve been trained to land since I was six years old, I thought. Muscle memory doesn’t care what body I’m in.

But I just nodded. “I guess so.”

Grace wasn’t satisfied. “I want her to stay overnight. For observation.”

“Mrs. Sterling, that’s really not necessary—”

“I don’t care.” Her voice cracked again. “Please. Just one night. To be safe.”

The doctor sighed. “If it’ll give you peace of mind.”

“It will.”

So they admitted me to a three-bed room on the second floor.

Grace left to fill out paperwork. The moment she was gone, I let myself relax against the pillows.

A hospital bed. Overnight observation. Regular meals. Nobody trying to kill me.

This is actually kind of nice.

My old life had been constant vigilance. Every meal could be poisoned. Every meeting could be an ambush. I’d slept with a gun under my pillow and a knife strapped to my thigh.

Five years of being the strongest person in any room.

And yeah, the power was intoxicating. The respect. The fear.

But it was also exhausting.

Now I had a second chance at a normal life.

If I wanted it.

I picked up the apple from the bedside table. Tossed it in the air. Caught it.

Tossed it again.

The memories had hit me this afternoon. The moment my fingers closed around the wolf fang pendant.

It wasn’t like downloading a file. More like… living someone else’s life in fast-forward.

I saw everything. Felt everything.

One week ago.

Original Aria sitting at lunch with two girls who weren’t really her friends. Emma and Seren. The kind of friends who kept you around because it made them feel better about themselves.

“You should totally tell him,” Emma said, twirling her fork in her salad. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Aria’s heart was pounding. “I don’t know…”

“Girl, you’ve been crushing on Kai Matthews since freshman year started.” Seren leaned in, grinning. “Just write him a note. Old school. Boys think that’s cute.”

“You think?”

“Totally.”

So Aria went home and wrote the letter.

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