ssi
e door clicked shut, but the real blo
ausoleum, pacing the empty halls and waiting for Luc
had collapsed at
igh-stakes gambling, a place where bullet wounds were stitched up in silence and without pol
s a civilian, a gentle woman who had married my father thinking his dangerous
. Her skin felt like
wet and painful. "Her breath rat
roll, a disgraced surgeon whose medical license had b
y voice rising in panic.
djusting an IV drip and not meeting my eye
er had the lungs of an opera singer. She never s
't looking at my mother, or at me. He was looking at hi
ing the bedrail until my knuckles turned w
we can," the doctor said
the monitors beep in a steady, hypnotic rhythm. I watched the life dr
put a hand on my shoulder. It felt hea
fee, Ava," he said, his voi
n. I walked down the hall to the vending machine, my f
from the nurses' sta
?" It was the doctor's
is prepped in Wing B. We need the harvest wi
hat they were talking about, but a cold shiver ran down my spine.
, the door was closed.
urs
ing a single, high-pit
her wa
head bowed. He looked up at me, hi
," he said. "Her
tore from my throat,
splash like ink. I rushed to the bed and shook her shoulders
. He held me tight, trapping
y hair. "I'm here. I'm the on
ort, not realizing I was crying on the chest of the man who had j
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