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I try to talk but a mask is over my face. With one hand, I swipe it off.
“Falcon, no.” A voice.
“I’ll get the nurse.” Another voice.
Then the image comes into focus. “Savannah?”
But it’s not Savannah. “Ray, what are you doing here?”
“I came to see my big brother.” Raven rubs my arm. “You look terrible, Falcon. I can’t believe this happened to you.”
What happened to me?
Right.
The McAllisters’ goons.
Or the Bianchis’ goons.
Same difference. They had muscles and fists. And of course the added advantage of tying my wrists together and my legs to a fucking chair so I couldn’t move away from their blows or defend myself.
Cowards.
“Mr. Bellamy,” another voice says, “how are you feeling?”
“Great,” I eke out, my voice hoarse.
“Your oxygen saturation is excellent. We can get rid of the mask and use a nasal cannula for now. At the end of the day, we’ll see if the doctor thinks you can go off of oxygen.”
“Why am I on oxygen?”
“You have a punctured lung. It should heal on its own, but for now the doctor wants your oxygen supplemented.”
“Okay,” I say.
“Everything looks good. Your breakfast should be here soon.”
Ugh. Breakfast. I can’t eat. I’m hungry, but it will be too painful. My jaw isn’t broken, or it would be wired shut like Zion’s was. Still, it hurts like a mother just to open my mouth to talk.
“Broken?” I ask.
“What do you mean?” Raven asks.
“Do you remember what happened yesterday, Falcon?” Savannah asks. “What the doctor said?”
I open my mouth and wince at the pain.
“I’m sorry,” Savannah says. “Don’t try to talk. You have several fractured ribs, but no other broken bones. Other than the punctured lung, all the wounds are superficial.”
Superficial. Right. They sure as hell don’t feel superficial.
“You’re a lucky man, Falcon.” Raven’s soft voice. “Now try to stay out of trouble, okay?”
I close my eyes.
36
SAVANNAH
