I try to sit up, but a sharp, blinding pain lances through my chest and my left shoulder. I gasp, falling back against the thin mattress.
Don’t move, a voice projects in my mind. It is weak, frayed, but unmistakably Kade.
I turn my head.
He is lying on a cot beside mine. His chest is heavily wrapped in thick, blood-stained bandages. His left arm, the one atrophied by the Praetorian’s silence blast in Siberia, is resting limply on his chest, pale and thin. His face is pale, his jaw shadowed with dark stubble, and his green eyes are fixed entirely on me.
You’re awake, he projects, a wave of profound, overwhelming relief washing through the fragile thread of our merge.
I’m awake, I reply, my physical voice a dry, raspy croak. I look around the ruined wing.
The pack is scattered across t
