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I didn’t know why.

I cursed the worsening coherency of my mind.

If I could just get my body healed, then I could finally think straight and not lose myself to fantasies.

I lived in dream worlds.

I babbled to Neri.

I saw pretty-jewelled fish swimming in my catacomb.

I felt the heat of the Australian sun and swore I felt the undulation of the Coral Sea beneath my bed.

If I could stop the hallucinations, then I could finally think straight.

I would be able to figure out how to grab a gun and shoot my way out.

Neri.

I can go home to Neri...

My head tipped forward as Cem buckled in my right arm. He’d already strapped in my tattooed arm, but he still wore his usual scowl of disapproval while glowering at it.

Did he hate all tattoos or just that one?

Did he know Neri had the same?

Did he hate that I’d willingly marked myself as belonging to her all while forbidding him the same right of owning me?

“Roll up his pant legs. I think we’ll do his ankles today,” Cem muttered as if he was discussing the weather and not where to torture me.

At least he hadn’t carried through with his threat to electrocute my balls.

Not yet, at least.

I moaned as the guard’s hands roughly jerked up my trackpants. I hissed as air swirled around my blazing calf and another crest of lightheadedness made the cave fade for a moment.

“Eh, patron?”

“What is it?” Cem barked, fiddling with the dials on the machine.

“You might want to take a look at this.”

With a soft curse, Cem came toward me, glanced down at my left leg, then blanched. Dropping to his haunches, he grabbed my ankle and pressed his thumb into the wasted, missing muscle.

I groaned in misery.

I flushed with nausea.

“How long has your leg been like this?” His head snapped up, his eyes sharp on mine. “Aslan? How long?!”

Too sharp.

The only sharp thing when everything else was fuzzy.

And soft.

Fuzzy and soft and—

“Aslan.” Cem’s hands landed on my cheeks. “Why didn’t you fucking tell me!?”

I licked my paper-dry lips. “I-I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

This was how he started his lessons.

First, he’d make me admit something true.

Was I in Turkey?

Yes.

Was I Aslan Kara?

Unfortunately.

Was I in love with Neri Taylor?

Undoubtedly.

I replied in my head but never out loud, and he’d shock me each time I refused. He’d only stop once I was forced to confess what he already knew.

Once I did...that was when the true fun began.

Flinching, already feeling the shocking heat and horrendous twitching from electricity, tears stupidly came to my eyes. “You haven’t asked any questions. I don’t know—”

“You’re sick, you stupid boy!” he roared. Launching upright, he snarled at the guards, “Unstrap him, carry him upstairs. Get Çetin here. Right now.”

“Of course, patron.”

I was only vaguely aware as the buckles were undone and the leather let me go.

The heat in my blood and the aching, breaking pain that’d steadily been getting worse chose that moment to crash.

It crashed and drowned and with a soft sigh...I gave in.

* * * * *

“I told you to hold off until his body could withstand it,” a male voice said coldly. “I also told you he couldn’t stay on antibiotics for the rest of his life. They were bound to stop working. I’m surprised they lasted this long.”

“Well, what the fuck are you going to do about it?” Cem growled. “The black has spread. It’s on his shin.”

“It’s worse than that I’m afraid. The X-rays show the bone is compromised. The tissue is no longer just dying, so is the bone beneath.”

“Fuck,” Cem gasped.

My eyes fought to crawl open.

I blinked at the sunshine pouring into the room.

Sterile and white with concrete floors, hard beds, and a wall of light holding X-rays of my damaged leg.

The images danced and blurred as my body fought to stay awake all while being ripped into sleep by a heavy undertow.

Something was wrong with the image.

My skeleton glowed white yet around the area where the doctor had carved out my calf muscle as if it was a ham steak for dinner, the bone was now gritty and grey. Black spots dotted up and down my leg, creeping ever closer to my kneecap.

Fuck, what does that mean?

The world spun, and I closed my eyes again, doing my best to stay aware even if I couldn’t focus.

“It means we have to take drastic action. Immediately.”

“Define drastic action,” Cem commanded.

“We must do what I advised in the beginning. The xylazine has destroyed any and all healthy cells. They are dead and the longer they are attached to his body, the more the necrosis will spread. He’s survived this long thanks to the antibiotics, but now he’s on a very dangerous trajectory.”

“How dangerous?”

“He will die.”

My eyes flashed up. “W-Wait...what?”

Cem shot me a look, his forehead furrowed and agony blazing in his gaze. “Aslan. Hey. How are you feeling?”

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