I tested my fingers first. They responded sluggishly but obeyed. I peeled the tape back from the IV in my left arm slowly, teeth clenched against the sting. Blood welled up instantly, warm against my skin. I ignored it.
The monitor beeped once, louder.
The man didn’t move.
I removed the second line more carefully, pressing gauze down from the tray at my bedside. My movements were slow, deliberate. Every inch of my body protested. My back screamed when I shifted my weight.
Silver.
They had dug silver out of me.
That meant surgery.
That meant time.
How long had I been out?
The thought made my stomach twist again.
I needed informations, but I needed to move.
Carefully, I slid my legs an inch to the side, testing whether the weight would follow.
Nothing.
Another inch.
The man exh
