As she leads me in, I scan the room, searching for Carrie. My chest loosens a little just seeing her there, pale and shaken but alive. Mrs. Jackson is sitting beside her, talking low.
I ease onto a cot, keeping my eyes on Carrie. I don’t care what I have to do. I’ll sit here and bleed all night if it means I get to make sure she’s alright.
The nurse takes one look at my leg and her mouth goes tight. “That’s a deep one,” she says, cleaning the blood with brisk, practiced hands. “You’ll need a tetanus shot. Have you had one in the last five years?”
I shake my head, trying to look annoyed instead of relieved. “Nope. Last one was way before I got locked up.”
She clicks her tongue, wrapping the cut in gauze. “Well, I’m out of stock. Shipment won’t be here until tomorrow.” She eyes the wound, then looks at me. “I don’t want you going back to your cell until I get you that shot. Too much risk of infection.”
I bite down on a grin, fighting to keep my face straight. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around, then.”
She shakes her head, already moving on to tidy up her kit. “Yeah, guess you will. Try not to bleed all over the place. I’ll check on you in a bit.”
I glance over to where Carrie’s still lying on the other cot, Mrs. Jackson by her side. The nurse doesn’t seem to notice I’m paying more attention to her than my own wound. For the firsttime all day, relief cuts through my nerves. I’ve got at least a few hours in here. Enough time to make sure Carrie’s safe, maybe even talk to her once Mrs. Jackson steps away.
A few minutes after the nurse patches me up, she heads over to Carrie’s cot, checks her pulse, then tells her she’s clear to leave.
To my dismay, I watch as Mrs. Jackson helps Carrie gather her things, gives her a look I can’t read, and then they quietly leave together. Carrie doesn’t even look back. She’s gone before I can say a word.
The infirmary feels bigger without her, but also emptier. The nurse is busy somewhere else, and for a while it’s just me and the sound of the ticking clock. I stare up at the ceiling, feeling stupid. I risked a deep cut for nothing. Couldn’t even check if she was alright. I can’t see out the high window. The only hint of time passing is the slow drag of the clock—close to seven now. Every minute stretches out, useless.
All that effort, and I didn’t even get a real word with her. I keep replaying her panic, the way she couldn’t wait for me to leave.
Seven o’clock comes and goes. The nurse disappears for dinner, locking the medicine cabinet and leaving me with nothing but my regrets. I sigh and close my eyes, ready to just ride it out till morning.
Then, a little after seven thirty, the door creaks open. I sit up, expecting the nurse, but it’s Carrie. She slips inside, eyes darting, closing the door quietly behind her.
She crosses to my cot, sits down beside me, close enough to touch. For a second, neither of us speaks.
Finally, she breaks the silence. “The nurse is gone for dinner. I thought I’d check up on you.”
I can’t help the grin that tugs at my mouth, even as I shake my head. “You’re sneaky.”
She leans in, her voice softer now. “Did you cut yourself just to see me?”
I look at her, don’t bother denying it. “Yeah. I did. I needed to know you were alright.”
She stares at me, eyes glassy with something between worry and relief. “You’re an idiot, Nico.”
“Yeah,” I say, voice low, “but I’d do it again.”
She looks at me, searching my face, that little smile still playing on her lips. “You look better than you did in the library,” I say, voice low. “You scared the shit out of me, Carrie.”
She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “I freaked out. I just…everything got to be too much, and I panicked. I’m sorry for making you worry.”
I shake my head. “Don’t apologize. You don’t have to be strong for everyone all the time, you know.”
She’s sitting close—too close for comfort, but I don’t pull away. Her hair brushes my shoulder, her hands shaking a little as she clutches a stack of papers. She’s barely keeping it together.
“All of this is so horrible,” she says, voice low and thick with emotion. “I think the ATF has railroaded you, Nico. The more I read, the more I’m sure of it.”
I look at her, searching her face. “What makes you say that?”
She glances down at the printouts, flipping through them with shaky fingers. “The charges don’t add up. The timeline doesn’t make sense. They say you, Jace, and Levi set up the weapons run, but every document I found—shipping logs, phone records, even Jinn’s financials—points outside the club. None of you had the access Jinn did.”
I frown, her words setting off alarms in my mind. “You think they’re just pinning it on us because Jinn vanished?”
She nods, looking up, eyes shining with fear and frustration. “Yes. They don’t care who pays for this, as long as they get toclose the case.” She shakes her head, voice trembling. “I’m so scared for you. For all of you. I keep going over the evidence, trying to find anything to help. Did you know about the gun deal? Did Jinn ever mention out-of-state buyers to you?”
