Gentler.
Steadier.
Like she’s willing her patients to survive through sheer force alone.
Avery’s eyes struggle to focus on her.
“You remember me now.”
Tears slide down Hannah’s face.
“Yes.”
Barely a whisper.
“Yes, I remember you.”
Avery lets out this tiny broken laugh that almost destroys me where I kneel.
“Took you long enough.”
Hannah chokes out a shaky breath.
And for one second—
one impossibly fragile second—
they almost look like normal women teasing each other.
Not survivors of some nightmare hidden beneath the world.
Not children raised inside torture.
Just two girls who once loved each other enough to survive hell together.
Then blood bubbles from Avery’s mouth.
Hannah’s face changes instantly.
Fear.
Real fear.
“No no no—Avery stay with me.”
She presses harder against the wound.
Wrong place.
Center mass.
Upper chest.
I know enough medicine to recognize a fatal shot when I see one.
And judging by the look on Russ’s face—
he knows it too.
