“W-what?” The room tilted, and he grasped the bed rail for support. “Pain, I—”

  “Who are you, handsome stranger?” She kicked up a brow, the usual spark back in her eyes.

  His palm slammed into the rail. “Dammit, Pain! This isn’t funny!”

  “Only ’cause you can’t see your face.” She chuckled, shameless as usual, and Chad suppressed a growl. Less than a minute, and she’d already gotten under his skin.

  She smiled, and the anger drained from him at the sight of her awake, alive. He reached out to cup her cheek, still wondering if she’d disappear when he touched her. She didn’t.

  “Hi,” she whispered, her face serious for once.

  “Hi.” A deep frown etched into his brow as he pressed his lips to her forehead, only two words spinning in his head—Thank you, thank you, thank you.

  “How do you feel?” he asked, pulling back.

  “Fine. Good, actually. Kinda hungry.”

  “Nothing hurts?”

  “My legs are a little numb, but that’s ’cause you Neanderthal slept on top of me.” She made a face. “You just never change, do you?”

  He chuckled, watching her wiggle her feet, warmth spreading in his chest for the first time in days. “How long have you been awake?”

  “Just a few minutes. You smell like you robbed a whiskey factory.”

  “It’s Marco,” Chad said, waving his hand.

  “How long has it been? Not ten years or anything, I hope, ’cause you look kinda—”

  “Six days. And don’t even try to joke about it. It was a miracle that brought you back, and Dave.”

  “Dave? Okay, I need the whole story.” She pushed herself up on the pillow, getting comfortable, but Chad pulled away.

  “I think you should speak to Doc first—he’s the one who knows the whole truth. Besides, I should go wake up Jane. We’ve all been going crazy here.”

  “The whole truth? What do you mean?” The beeping sped up.

  Pain reached out to him, but he just took her hand and gave it a quick kiss before stepping away. “I’ll get the nurse. Be back in ten.”

  She scratched her back, her eyebrows rising even higher. “Hey, there’s no dressings.”

  “I know. Don’t get up yet, okay?”

  Satisfied that she lay back down, he darted into the nurses’ room.

  * * *

  The incessant buzzing of a phone on Peter’s nightstand pulled him out of his sleep. Even without opening his eyes he knew it was that phone. The emergency one.

  He peeled one eye open, squinting at the screen—Skull. “What is it?” he answered the phone.

  “We need you in the basement. Now.”

  Peter’s heartbeat sped up, but he didn’t waste time on questions, saying only, “Two minutes.”

  He glanced at the window, where the sun was barely peeking from the horizon. What was Skull doing at the cells so early?

  The ground floor was deserted when he got down, his footsteps echoing in the wide space. The secret door gaped open. What the hell? Adrenaline spiked in his veins. This couldn’t be good.

  The guard wasn’t in his place when Peter trotted down the stairs. The second door opened with a hiss, and the first thing he saw was Skull ducking out of an open cell door. Anxious voices reached Peter’s ears.

  He bolted forward.

  “What the hell happened?” he barked, only to halt and stare at the sight of Greg and another guard crouched over Victoria’s sprawled form.

  Then he saw the blood.

  Realizing at once what was going on, he darted inside the cell. Victoria was convulsing, the men trying to hold her still as they clutched at her bleeding wrists, but even so, the twin pools of blood at her sides were growing. Peter dropped to his knees and grabbed her arms, cutting off the blood’s flow.

  Victoria’s dark eyes focused on him, wide, desperate, a moment before they rolled back and her body went limp.

  Peter’s lungs seemed incapable of drawing breath. He staggered to all fours, eyes glued to Victoria’s pale face. A minute passed in stunned silence before he could inhale and straighten up.

  Slowly, he turned to Greg. “How?” he uttered through his teeth.

  The man dropped his gaze. “She had this little metal detail on her coat, and…” The rush of blood in Peter’s ears drowned out the rest as he found the object in the corner, splattered with blood.

  The sleeves of Victoria’s black turtleneck were rolled up to her elbows, and two jagged cuts split her wrists.

  Phoenix’s distant voice cut through Peter’s shock, “Peter, if I’d known, I never would’ve brought it up.”

  “But how?” Peter asked again, turning to him. “How did she do this, with you and the cameras and…” he trailed off, cursing, and got up.

  “She waited till I was asleep. I was only out for a couple hours. And the cameras, well, that corner with the toilet is a blind spot.”

  “She planned this, Peter,” Greg quickly added. “She sharpened the… that thing on the floor, and then she did it pretty fast, because it was only about five minutes before I realized she’d been on the… in the corner for too long.” He gulped under Peter’s glare. “I ran straight here, but it happened too fast.”

  Shaking his head, Peter wiped his palms on his sweater and walked out of the cell. The Beast across the corridor pressed his face to the bars, leering.

  Peter pointed a finger at him. “Back the fuck off and don’t let me see your face again, or I’ll bash it in, and I’ll be damn glad to do it.”

  It was Greg and Skull, not the Beast, who backed off first. Peter clenched his fists as the Beast sneered and stretched on the bunk, his face to the wall.

  “I shouldn’t have left the damn coat in there,” Peter muttered. “Shouldn’t have put her in this cell.”

  Skull snorted. “She would’ve found some other way then, probably drowned herself in the toilet. This is not your fault.”

  “I don’t care whose fault this is. I’ve got a dead woman in my basement, and we’re still nowhere close to ending this.”

  Phoenix peeked at him through the bars, leaning against the far wall.

  “Get him out of the damn cell!” Peter snapped.

  The guard hurried to unlock the door, letting Phoenix saunter out into the corridor.

  Peter blew out a sigh and massaged the bridge of his nose. Once again, control was slipping through his fingers, and he was back to square one. Victoria’s dead eyes stared at him as he turned to look at her.

  He strode into the cell, and the others kept silent as he pulled Victoria’s eyelids shut, then scooped her up and laid her down on the bunk. First Elena, now this. He wanted to hate Victoria, to be glad that Elena’s killer was dead. But it was just another unnecessary death, laid out before him.

  His phone buzzed in its pocket. He took it out, finding a text from Chad. Even as his eyes scanned the words over and over, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

  At last, he slipped the phone back into the pocket and breathed out in relief.

  Skull shuffled behind his back. “I’ll take her to the infirmary.”

  “No, not the infirmary. Find her relatives, spin up a legend. She should be buried where they see fit. Briefing today at five.” Peter turned to Skull. “Pain’s awake. I have to go.”

  “Well, that’s good news. I’ll deal with this, don’t worry.”

  Peter grimaced at the bloody mess in the cell, then realized he, too, was a mess, with red smudges all over his gray sweater. He ground his teeth, feeling dirty to the bone.

  His fingers closed on the back of the sweater, and he whipped it off and tossed it to the floor. “Screw it,” he muttered, walking out of the cell. “Find her relatives. Clean her up. And make sure no one here sees her.”

  Chapter 35

  Pain held her breath and counted to five to keep from snapping at her friends as they crowded her bed.

  “O-kay… For the tenth time,” she said, looking at Tiffany, “I feel fine. Honestly. Stop poking at my eyeballs.” She turned to her sister and Chad. “I don’t need pain meds. What I need is a hairbrush and a mirror.” Her eyes landed on Marco wearing only ridiculously bright pink shorts and Jordans. “Wha—I don’t even wanna ask. If we’re done here, I’d like to take a shower and eat a big, greasy meal. Doc can take a look at me later.”

  She sat up higher and adjusted her top and sweatpants, intending to get off the bed, but Chad blocked her. “I saw Peter at the staircase. Shirtless. He looked pissed.” Chad grimaced. “Did you know he has a ginormous—” He broke off as the infirmary door squeaked open.

  Everyone whipped around.

  Peter stood in the doorway, dressed in jeans and a black sweater, his face grim. Pain swallowed hard as he locked gazes with her for a second, then turned to close the door.

  Chad bent down to her ear, quickly whispering, “…tattoo on his back?”

  She waved him off, mouthing, “I know,” and ignored his big eyes.

  “How’s she doing?” Peter asked Tiffany as he joined them, tension coming off him in waves.

  Shit, he’s gonna yell.

  “So far, so good.” Tiffany gave a quick smile, probably feeling it too. “We’ll need to run some tests and keep her in for observation for a couple days.”

  Peter gave a tight nod. His frown turned into a scowl as he looked at Pain. She pressed back into the pillow.

  “We’ll be outside,” Tiffany said, pushing the others to the exit. Pain caught Jane’s troubled look, but no one said a word as they shuffled out the door.

  Silence filled the room when everyone left, and it got heavier by the second. Peter stood gazing out the window, arms crossed.

  Ten more seconds, she thought, and this is going to get awkward.

  He turned to her, that bottled-up rage simmering in his eyes.

  She sighed. “Listen, just—”

  “I thought you were dead,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “I know. Everyone did.”

  “No.” He took a slow, measured step closer. “I thought you were dead. I believed it. I was told they shot you, and I thought you were gone.” He fell silent, his breaths the only sound in the room. “The others were there when Dave took off with you, but I wasn’t. I was here. And all I had was some words passed on from someone to some guy, and they’re all rookies, so they didn’t know what they were doing, saying something like that without confirmation. I was the last to know that Dave had already brought you here when I heard that, and only because Rooney was smart enough to check the cameras and see everyone in the hall, except you. So for five minutes, I thought you were dead.”

  One step closer, and he stared her in the eyes in the dim morning light. Pain opened her mouth, but no words came out.

  “Do you realize what those five minutes have done to me?”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered at last. “I guess no one told you because they weren’t sure themselves. Dave took off, and until they caught up to him…” she trailed off, biting her lip.

  Peter leaned over the bed next to hers, his long fingers gripping the bed rail. “How could you be so reckless? You nearly died for nothing. I’m not even talking about you going there in the first place, when I specifically told you not to. But getting under fire like that, what the hell were you thinking?”

  “It wasn’t reckless.” Her words came out snappy even to her own ears, and she tried to keep her emotions in check as she got up to her feet. “It was an accident. I did what I had to do. We had a shot at following them, and we did and found out how they get away, at least. That’s worth something.”

  “Your life?”

  Her self-control flew out the window. “No, not my life, but it’s not like I planned for this to happen!”

  “That’s right, you didn’t plan anything. You are not a human shield, Pain. You gotta be smarter than that.”

  “I get it, I know it was awful—”

  “No, you don’t!” he yelled, pointing a finger at her. “You don’t know what it’s like, not until you have children of your—” He broke off and turned away, dragging a hand down his face.

  Her mouth snapped shut when she realized what he’d almost said. Never before had he yelled at her like this. Still, her anger quickly dissipated, leaving her weak and wobbly. She perched on the bed, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions inside her.

  A minute later, she swallowed the lump in her throat and said, “I really am sorry, you know.”

  Peter nodded, still facing the other way.

  He ran a hand over his eyes before crossing the room and picking something up from the corner. Only when he thrust it onto her bed did she realize it was her katana in its scabbard. Peter didn’t say a word, just pointed his finger at something.

  She peered at it with a frown. “There’s a… dent?”

  “This is where the sixth bullet hit. I believe that’s where your heart is?”

  Her throat went dry as she stared at the dent in the matte-black metal.

  “Remember what you said when I gave you the first prototype?” Peter asked.

  She looked him in the eyes, crossing her arms. “It’s too bulky.”

  Peter shook his head. “Still think so?”

  “I’m used to it.” She stroked the katana’s length, pushing the invisible button to unlock the sword. “At least the sword wasn’t damaged.”

  Peter waved his hand. “That blade will outlive us all. But,” he put his index finger under her chin, pulling her gaze away from the sword, “from now on, it’s body armor all the way. I mean it.”

  She grimaced. “You know I hate it.”

  “Like you hate everything that helps keep you safe?”

  “It’s too—”

  “Bulky?”

  She expelled a resigned sigh. “Fine, whatever. We’ll be done with the Commandos soon anyway.”

  A few seconds passed in silence, a distant murmur of the others’ voices reaching them through the wall. With each passing moment, Peter’s gaze darkened, returning to its previous state.

  “Something else happened while I was out,” she said, reading his gloomy expression. “What is it?”

  “We’ll have a briefing today at five. You’ll—”

  The door swung open, Doc striding in without acknowledging Peter.

  “Well, good morning to you,” Peter said with a wan smile.

  “Uh-huh.” Doc went straight for the clipboard on Pain’s nightstand, not bothering to put on his white coat. “Get back in bed.”

  She obeyed, reclining on the pillow as Doc flipped through Tiffany’s notes. He clicked his tongue and turned to Pain.

  She held up a hand. “No more prodding and poking. Tiffany’s already done all that. Nothing hurts, no nausea, nada. I’m fine.”

  Doc looked at Peter over his shoulder. “She’s fine. She’s had three holes in her, I nearly killed myself saving her, and she’s fine.”

  Peter smiled with the corner of his mouth.

  “What do you mean, killed yourself?” Pain asked. She slid forward on the bed so Doc could take a look at her back.

  He switched on a light over the bed, and she pulled the covers up to her chest as he rolled up her tank top. His fingers slid over her skin, sending a shiver down her spine.

  “Feel anything here?” he asked.

  “Aside from tickling? No.”

  “And here?”

  “Nothing. How did it heal so fast?”

  Peter raised a brow. “I’d like to know the answer to that question, too, if you don’t mind.”

  “It didn’t heal,” Doc muttered, bending down to peer at the bandage on her side. “I healed it.”

  “You what? Ouch!” Pain grimaced when he pulled at the band-aid that held the bandage in place.

  “Did you just heal this one?” he asked, pointing at the reddened spot on her side. She saw stitches, now useless.

  “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  Doc folded his arms on his chest, frowning. “This isn’t normal.”

  “Oh, really?” she said with a humorless smile, pulled her top down and leaned back on the pillow.

  “I mean, I was pretty sure you’d wake up, but fully healed like this? This doesn’t feel right.”

  “Well, I’m sorry I’m all healed. Maybe you can make a few more holes in me and then not tell me how you healed them, too.” She stared at Doc, crossing her own arms, so they mirrored each other’s pose.

  He let out a sigh, stepping back to sit on a bed. “How much did the others tell you?”

  “Nothing. Chad said I should speak to you.”

  Doc nodded. “Remember back in July when Marco nearly got killed and Chad said you brought him back?”

  She blinked at the sudden change of topic. “Yes?”

  “He came to me a couple weeks later and told me more about it. Said he thought you healed Marco without realizing it, and maybe it was something I should try.”

  “Bullshit.” She grimaced. “I don’t know where he got that idea. I gave Marco CPR, and his body healed itself, that’s all.”

  “If it was bullshit, you wouldn’t be here.” The intensity in Doc’s gaze made her pull back. “You couldn’t see it, but Chad did. He said there was this big sphere of light, and you didn’t even see Marco was breathing again, until Chad broke through it. And that’s, by the way, how he knew he could break through Eugene’s shield.”

  Pain looked away, remembering the early morning outside Eugene’s building. How she’d confronted Chad about his reckless move, and he’d said he’d known he could do it.

  “I’d heard about something similar once.” Doc’s words made her look back up at him. “So I figured if two people had witnessed it, I might at least try. After all, you did it accidentally, so how hard could it be if I actually practiced it?”

  “Did it work on anyone else before Pain?” Peter asked.

  “No. I tried different things, I researched it, nothing. Then you guys went after the Commandos, and I got the call, barely had the time to open the window when Dave barged in. Got your blood all over the floor. I kinda lost it, honestly. Maybe that’s why it worked.” He rubbed his face, then pressed two fingers to his eyes. “It didn’t work at first. You flat-lined for a minute. Lost a lot of blood. Had to pull in both Marco and Dave.”