Logan's breathing sounded wrong.
I knelt beside his unconscious form in what used to be Silver Creek's infirmary, watching machines that beeped too fast and displayed numbers that made Jenny Reeves shake her head with professional concern. Three hours since the assassination attempt. Three hours since I'd erased the last Enhanced Protocol operative from existence while Logan's life signs flatlined on our medical monitors.
He was alive. Barely.
"Internal bleeding, severe trauma to the spinal column, and neurological damage that's beyond anything I've seen from conventional weapons," Jenny said quietly, checking readings that hadn't improved despite her best efforts. "Aria, whatever they hit him with, it wasn't designed to just kill. It was designed to cause maximum suffering before death."
"Can you fix him?" My voice sounded strange, hollow, like it was coming from someone else.
