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A soft thud of a door closing made me stir. A hoarse, alien whisper scraped out of me.
'Steven…'
The silence around me snapped me fully alert. I prised my heavy lids apart. My lashes were wet, clumped. At first everything was a blur; a single yellow bulb burned overhead, pricking at my eyes.
I shifted, slow and careful. The sting of a needle in my vein sharpened me a little more.
I dragged my tired gaze around the room. Small. Grey concrete walls. A tiny window sealed tight with a thick curtain. An old metal locker at the far end. I lay on a rickety single bed.
A drip stand stood beside the mattress; on the little bedside table I caught meds—and blood-streaked tissues.
So that stale, metallic smell was blood.
I lifted my head. Someone had changed me into an oversized grey hoodie. My bare leg was bandaged; the bullet was probably out.
The painkillers fogged everything, made it hard to read my own body. I reached for the last moment I'd been clear—what exactly had happened? Where was I? Ashur? Had they caught us? Was I not in a safe house at all but locked in some Union room?
Cold sweat washed over me. A shiver crawled down my bones.
The metal handle on the door pressed down. Heart in my mouth, I grabbed the glass of water from the table and lifted it like a weapon, ridiculous as it was.
The door opened with a soft, grating creak. My chest rose and fell too fast. Stray hair slid into my eyes.
I pressed my lips together and waited—and when Ashur stepped in and shut the door behind him, I let out the breath I'd been strangling.
My rigid body uncoiled. I just stared. His arm was bandaged, and he'd changed clothes—fitted black T-shirt, dark jeans. His cool, cutting eyes flicked to the glass in my hand. A corner of his mouth tilted.
'Looks like I spooked you.'
I set the glass back down with a shaky hand and eased against the cold metal headboard. My whole body felt numb. I knew I was in pain, but the edges were dulled, distant—the drugs. And I was already dreading when they wore off.
He came closer—slow. The room was either too small, or he was simply too much for it. He wasn't huge, but the height and those broad shoulders took up space.
'Where am I? Wh—what happened?' I managed.
His black eyes locked onto mine, unreadable. 'Just like you said, the Rose O…Organisation sent people after us. The Union couldn't keep up—they lost too many and t…took the hit.' He took another step, shoving his hands into his pockets. 'This is a secure safe h…house. The Organisation s… sent a doctor for you. You're not in bad shape.'
I poured water from the little jug, my voice rough as I asked, 'And then? When do we leave?'
I could feel his gaze on my unsteady hands. I drank and only then realised how thirsty I was. I set the glass down, gasping, and looked at him.
He answered, calm. 'Union operatives are searching everywhere. To get here we changed vehicles t… three times, and you—well, you were out cold the whole way.' A thin, mocking smile. 'Until we get an o… order, we don't l… leave.'
I pressed my aching head into my palms and stared at the wall. He crossed to the window, tugged the heavy black curtain a fraction, and studied the world outside.
I watched his profile. Wished I could be as calm as he was.
But I was done. My mission was over. Ashur was free. And I want to out of this filthy game.
I couldn't breathe in this room any more—the stink of blood, the orders that never seemed to end. I want to be free!