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The voice is deep and close by. I peel my eyelids open, blinking against the blurriness in front of me.
“Luna?” The voice is closer now. A hand grips my arm, squeezing. “Can you hear me?”
The shape next to my bed has the same dark hair as Yakov. The same square jaw. The same deep voice.
But it isn’t Yakov.
“Nik?” I try to sit up, but my head swims.
Nik presses my shoulder back until I lie down again. “Don’t sit up. Give it a second.”
“What’s going on? Where is Yakov? Where am I?”
I’m still in the hospital. I can tell by the speckled drop ceiling and the beeping of the monitor behind me. There’s an IV in my arm. The tape around it pulls uncomfortably against my skin. I don’t remember it hurting before. Did someone move it while I was sleeping?
“Wow. I’m out of it,” I admit with a soft laugh. “How long was I asleep?”
“Eight hours,” he mutters.
I snap my attention to him. “Really? How? I haven’t slept that well in… I don’t even know how long.”
“You needed the rest.”
“You’re not wrong.” I turn my head from side to side. It feels like it’s full of wet sand. “Weirdly, I don’t feel very rested. I feel worse than I have in a while. Maybe my body is accustomed to running on no sleep. It doesn't know what to do with actual rest.”
I’m joking, but Nikandr isn’t in a joking mood. There’s a first time for everything, I suppose.
“Is this the first time you’re out of the house in your wheelchair?”
He nods. “My physical therapist said I can sit up in the passenger seat now. It’ll make it a lot easier to get around. Plus… Yakov needed me.”
His eyes shift to the floor and all of my radars start going off.
Something is wrong.
The thought brings back a hazy memory. Me trying to get out of bed. Trying to get to the door.
I frown. “Where did you say Yakov was?”
“I didn’t.”
I stare at him, waiting for more. “Nik… where is he?”
“He had to take care of something. He asked me to sit with you until he gets back.”
The words echo somewhere in the back of my mind. Again, a foggy memory rises to the surface. Those exact words coming from someone else…
“I had a weird dream, I think. Yakov was gone, but Dr. Jenkins was?—”
As soon as I say his name, Nik’s face changes. His hand tightens to a fist in his lap and his jaw clenches.
“It wasn’t a dream, was it?” I whisper.
Nik’s jaw works back and forth before he forces the words out. “Yakov got to you in time.”
The memories come back faster now, clicking into place like photos in a slideshow. “Dr. Jenkins,” I breathe. “Is he…?”
“He won’t be a problem anymore,” Nik answers curtly.
