The first thing Arjun heard was shouting.
Not pain
Indignation.
"—do you have any idea who I am?" a voice barked. "I could've been killed. Killed. And you people arrive when it's already over?"
Arjun's eyes opened to white light and a slow, nauseating spin. His body felt heavy, dense, like it had been filled with wet sand. Something pulled at his arm. An IV. The air smelled sterile, sharp enough to sting the back of his throat.
He turned his head.
A man lay on the bed beside him, propped up dramatically on pillows, a constellation of doctors hovering around him. The man's hair was neat. His clothes had been replaced with a hospital gown that looked more expensive than necessary. A thin scratch marked his cheek.
He was yelling like the world had ended.
"I don't care how many minutes it took," the man snapped. "Those minutes matter when someone like me is on the road."
The police commissioner stood at the foot of the bed, hands folded, face flat with practiced patience.
"You shouldn't have been alone, sir," he said. "Security protocols—"
"Oh, don't lecture me," the man cut in. "Do your job."
Arjun swallowed.
His ribs protested. His shoulder throbbed in a deep, slow way that told him something ugly was swelling beneath the skin. He shifted slightly and caught sight of his arm—puffy already, skin stretched tight, a dull purple bloom spreading.
Funny, he thought hazily. No one panicking over this.
Across the room, a man on a wheelchair cried out as a compounder wheeled him past, clutching his side.
"Quiet," the compounder snapped. "You're disturbing other patients."
The man whimpered, trying to apologize through clenched teeth.
At the same time, one of the doctors leaned closer to the shouting official. "Please, sir," she said gently. "Try to stay calm."
Arjun watched the contrast settle into place.
He turned his head back toward the other bed.
Recognition clicked.
That's him.
The car.
The insignia.
The man who hadn't slowed down.
Kael.
The name surfaced uninvited.
Kael waved a hand angrily. "Calm? After what happened? That animal—" He spat the word. "—that thing needs to be put down."
One of the enforcers standing nearby puffed his chest. "Don't worry, sir," he said loudly. "Next time I see him, he won't walk away."
Kael barely glanced at him. "You people always say that."
The commissioner tried again. "We'll follow procedure. We'll trace patterns. These things take time."
"Time?" Kael laughed, sharp and humorless. "Your procedures can't do shit."
Arjun almost smiled.
At least someone says it out loud, he thought.
Kael's voice rose. "I don't care what it costs. Money, resources—whatever it takes. I want him gone."
The room had gone quiet. Even the doctors had stilled.
Arjun pushed himself upright.
Pain flared. He welcomed it. It anchored him.
"How much?" he asked.
Every head turned.
Kael blinked, then chuckled softly, as if amused by the audacity. "As much as it takes," he said.
One of the enforcers stepped forward and placed a heavy hand on Arjun's shoulder. "You did well for a civilian," he said, patronizing. "Now let professionals handle this."
The hand never left his shoulder.
Arjun moved.
The enforcer's balance vanished. His body twisted, lifted, and inverted in a single smooth motion. Gravity did the rest. His head met the floor with a dull, sickening thud.
Silence detonated into motion.
Guns came up. Fast. Too fast for panic. Black muzzles aimed at Arjun from every angle.
Arjun raised both hands slowly, smiling.
"Don't touch me," he said calmly, eyes flicking down to the groaning man on the floor, "without permission."
He looked back at Kael.
"So," Arjun repeated, voice steady despite the ache blooming under his skin,
"how much money are we talking?"
The room held its breath.