Fuck, if this went wrong...
If I died in the next few minutes...
Rook buried her face into Whisper’s scruff as if using him as a box of tissues.
A punch of jealousy caught me completely unaware.
I wanted her to hold me instead.
I wanted to kiss her...just in case it was the last.
“Stay still,” Harry murmured, wrenching my attention back to him as he reached for my wrist. “We’ll do the cuffs first, then the pacemaker.”
“Fine.” Shutting everything down, I glowered at the ceiling. I ignored how my skin crawled as his fingers brushed me, tugging on the locking mechanism that I’d never been able to undo, no matter what I’d used to pry them open.
He hissed under his breath then picked up something thin and hooked from the array of torture devices beside me. With his other hand, he grabbed a small pair of forceps.
Cold metal clamped around my cuff, amplifying the sensation directly into my body.
He pressed, probed, then twisted the hook sharply into the lock.
A sharp metallic snap echoed through the room.
My entire hand flooded with heat.
“That’s one tab released.” His voice was tight and curt. “But scar tissue’s grown over the second.” Picking up a tiny scalpel, he added, “We’re out of local anaesthetic so you’re just going to have to bear with it.”
Rook sucked in a breath.
Whisper took a step forward, fighting her hold.
“It’s fine.” I shook my head at both of them. “Don’t come over here.”
Harry made a quick incision—just enough to separate whatever had fused. I hissed at the sharp sting as he dug the hook deeper, searching for the final latch.
A second, louder click.
The cuff loosened—cradling my wrist instead of biting into it.
For the first time since I was a child, air touched skin that hadn’t seen the world in decades.
Warm Ashfall blood seeped from the tiny scalpel cut, bright red and mocking.
“This is the hard part.” Sweat gleamed on Harry’s upper lip. “I need to remove the internal shunt. It will bleed. A lot. And you need to stay absolutely still so I don’t tear the vein.”
Not waiting for me to agree, he slid his fingers over my wrist, feeling for the tube’s anchor point. “I’m going to withdraw it slowly to minimise any damage.” He gave a single nod...and then pulled.
White-hot fire exploded down my forearm as the tube slid gently, excruciatingly slowly from my vein. It came free and blood surged, dark and steady.
Rook panicked. “I-Is that normal?!”
Whisper snarled as if they’d slit my throat.
“It’s okay, kitty cat,” she soothed. “Stay here. Come on. Be good. Please be good.”
Roger raced to my side, clamping a wad of gauze against the tiny hole in my wrist. “I’ll deal with the compression and stitches. You get the other one.”
Blood soaked through the gauze instantly.
He swapped the drenched handful for another, bright red splashing onto the white towel beneath.
Both Rook and Whisper shuffled closer. “Lucien—”
“I’m fine,” I lied. “Stay away.”
Closing my eyes, I let spinning sickness carry me away while both doctors worked on me. I tensed as the other cuff was slowly sliced and unlocked. I held my breath as they leaned over me, putting all their weight on the matching wounds to stop them from bleeding.
I didn’t open my eyes as I felt the sharp poke of a needle—sewing up the tiny holes left behind. I didn’t make a sound as they wrapped tight bandages around both wrists, hiding the mess my arms had become and replacing silver cuffs with cotton instead of metal.
I wanted a break.
I needed to breathe.
But all I said was, “And now the vitalsync.”
“You know what?” Roger barked. “My nerves are shot. I’ve had about enough of backyard medicine for one day. I don’t think I—”
“I’ll do it.” Harry sniffed. “The sooner this is over—even if I do end up killing him—the better.” Marching to his bag, he pulled out a big red box.
“Harry, wait. What about another option? We leave and take him with us. We’ll say he needs urgent care at the hospital.” Roger shot a wary glance at the exit. “We’ll say he’ll die if we don’t and—”
“You take me out of this room and Marcus will kill you.” My veins turned to ash. The bandages around my arms were so tight, my fingers throbbed.
Rook squeaked as Harry pulled out a defibrillator, placing it on the side table that he’d dragged next to the desk. Playing with wires and paddles and buttons, he waited until things flashed before nodding with satisfaction. “I agree with this crazy bastard. I’m not willing to put my family’s life at risk. I’ll uphold my Hippocratic oath and do my best to help him, but the moment I step out of this room, I’m done.” His eyes narrowed on me. “Do you hear me? I’m not responsible for what happens next.”
“I hear you.” I nodded, my heart galloping.
Holding matching travel-sized paddles in each hand, Harry loomed over me. “Ready?”
“Wait.” Rook leapt to her feet.
“Do it,” I snarled.
I turned my head and locked eyes with the girl responsible for getting me this far.
I clung to my dreams of revenge and—
“Clear!”
The shock hit like lightning.
Like fire and freedom and fury.
The world detonated white.
And blackness fell—
Chapter Fifteen
HE LOOKED DEAD.
One second, two seconds, three...
He lay completely still on the table—head turned toward me, eyes closed, the rise and fall of his chest unnervingly not there.
Letting Whisper go, I ran to him—
But Roger stepped in front of me and held up his hands. “Wait.”
Whisper roared and pawed at the ground, snapping at air.
Four seconds, five seconds, six...
Bolting around Roger, the panther launched toward his unconscious master just like I wanted to do. Balancing on his hind legs, he planted both paws on Lucien’s bare chest as if he could give the Heimlich manoeuvre and bring him back to life.
Harry reeled backward, the defib paddles still in his hands.
The panther looked as if he was moments away from slaughtering everyone.
Which...if Lucien didn’t wake up, was a very high probability.
Seven seconds, eight seconds, nine...
I couldn’t do it anymore.
I stepped toward the desk—
Lucien jerked, his spine arching off the blood-soaked desk, his lips parting wide as if his soul slammed back into place.
The two doctors tried to go to him, but Whisper roared.
Lucien gasped again, deeper, harsher, dragging air into his lungs and clawing his way back to life. His fingers twitched. His eyes snapped open—wild and unfocused—before locking onto the beast looming over him.
He blinked once. Twice.
His hands came up and he smooshed the giant cat’s face. He tried to speak but coughed instead. “T-Trying to eat me...while I’m still warm, huh?” He coughed a second time, then smacked another kiss—just like he had in bed—right on Whisper’s nose.
My heart swelled until it no longer fit in my ribcage. I planted both hands over my mouth to hold back the sobs.
Did this mean everything would get better now?
Is he free?
“Fuck me that hurt,” Lucien groaned.
Whisper snorted as Lucien pushed him away and...sat upright. Slow and shaky, but with raw determination and abnormal strength. No one who’d gone through what he had should be able to sit up so quickly...should they?
Whisper dropped to all fours as Lucien pressed a trembling hand to his chest, the glint of white bandages thick and tight around his wrists, his fingers trailing over that awful thing trapping his heart.
Harry muttered something under his breath as Roger stepped gingerly toward the desk. “How are you sitting up? Lie back down. You just took a full shock.”
