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