Chapter 43

Lancelin’s P.O.V A sharp beeping sound cuts through the thick haze of unconsciousness, dragging me back from the abyss. My body feels like lead, weighted down by an invisible force that seeps into my bones. My eyelids are heavy, but I force them open, blinking against the harsh white light that floods my vision. The scent of antiseptic and something sterile lingers in the air, clawing at my senses. A hospital. I am in a hospital. For a moment, I simply lie there, my breath slow and controlled, trying to piece together how I ended up in such a place. The rhythmic beeping continues in the background, the IV in my arm a stark reminder of my current state. Then it hits me—pain, sharp and searing, echoing through my body like a lingering whisper of agony. Blood. My blood. The memory rushes in like a flood, fragmented and disjointed. A gunshot. A sharp impact tearing through flesh. My vision blurred as I collapsed. But I shouldn't still be feeling this. I am the Incubus King. Wounds should h