I’m not.
The room is quiet.
Too quiet.
No engines.
No voices.
No movement.
Just… still.
Hate that.
I shift slightly in the bed—
Bad idea.
Pain reminds me exactly why I’m here.
Yeah.
Still not a fan.
I exhale slowly, staring up at the ceiling.
Trying not to think.
Doesn’t work.
It never does.
Because my head keeps going back—
Not to the mission.
Not to the compound.
Not even to the hit.
To her.
Hannah Bower, MD.
The way she looked at me.
The way shedidn’tback down.
The way she—
Yeah.
That.
I scrub a hand over my face.
Carefully.
