Zara
The heavy silence of the penthouse evening is broken only by the rhythmic, muffled scrape of a stretcher frame moving down the hallway.
Dad and Stitch are hauling Bishop off the living room sofa, Stitch having decided that he’s stable enough to finally move. They carry his limp, heavily bandaged weight toward the second guest room at the back of the apartment.
Bishop is awake enough to groan, his knuckles stark white where he’s gripping the sheets, but the high dose of pain meds keeps his legs useless beneath him.
"Watch his right thigh, Cobra,” Stitch grunts, maneuvering around the doorframe. "Keep that leg straight."
They vanish into the guest room, the heavy oak door swinging partially shut behind them, leaving the main room feeling strangely empty.
Jade and I stand near the
