Chapter One Hindred and Forty -Seven
Markus gave a short, humorless laugh and stepped closer to the bed.
"You just came back from the dead," he said. "Try recovering first."
Ahmet's eyes flicked over him, sharp despite the pallor of his skin. He shifted, testing his weight, and the slightest hitch in his breath betrayed the pain he refused to acknowledge.
"I'm fine," Ahmet said. His voice was rough, scraped raw by blood loss and stubbornness. "Where is it?"
Markus shook his head. "You were shot in the chest. You lost more blood than you'd like to admit. You're not even supposed to be sitting up."
Ahmet swung his legs over the side of the bed anyway. The motion was careful and controlled, but it cost him. His fingers dug briefly into the mattress, knuckles whitening, before he straightened.
"I didn't survive this to lie down and wait," he said. "If I'm breathing, I'm moving."
