“Rav?” I said.
No, that was still my inside voice. Maybe a rasp came out.
I willed my hand to move. To close the distance.
It was too tired, too.
But the movement was enough. Rav’s eyes snapped open, like he’d been caught sleeping on sentry duty.
“Brooke.” One tiny syllable, but the relief in it made my chest tight. His hand landed on mine. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” I managed.
He jabbed at a tiny button next to me. “You’ve been asleep for six days.”
I let my eyelids close, then forced them open so I could see him.
He reached for a cup of water with a straw, helping me take small sips. “They had to keep you under while they worked.”
Six days. Fragments came back—the rooftop, Owen’s insane ramblings, the mortar tipping. The explosion. The heat.
“Did we stop it?” My mind was still foggy, but I knew what mattered. “The attack?”
“You stopped it.” Something fierce entered his voice. “You saved everyone. Thousands of people who’ll never know how much they owe you.”
I tried to process that while he helped me with another sip of water. “What happened to everyone? Martinelli?”
“In custody, although he’ll be in hospital even longer than you. Him, Owen, and every Fenix operative we could identify. The Carabinieri were extremely thorough.” A slight smile crossed his face. “Bobcat and Percival ensured everyone at the lab was taken in, too. At least for questioning.”
“The mole at Pendragon?”
“Looks like it was just the one analyst that tipped off the Carabinieri about Pendragon. He was arrested after releasing a manifesto that provided extensive explanation. He believed Martinelli’s vision was worth the collateral damage.”
I noticed what he hadn’t said. “He worked with Lark?”
“He did. And it sounds like he was the one behind the Carabinieri visit to Fenix that Noah told us about.”
“Why?”
“Because the analyst knew Pendragon was coming for Fenix. If they got a tip about Fenix creating a bioweapon, but they investigated and found nothing, it took away Pendragon’s argument that Fenix was doing anything shady. He was getting ahead of Pendragon.”
“At least we’ve got answers now.” But were they enough? I’d spent years trying to lock down the Greek Fire formula, but it had gotten out, anyway. If anyone got away from the lab—if anyone from Fenix got away—it could still be out there. “Noah?”
He frowned. “Gone. Vanished sometime during the chaos at Pompeii. Scarlett’s not happy about it, but honestly, I think she expected it.”
“He’s slippery.”
He gave a small chuckle. “He always was.”
The door opened before I had time to ask more questions. A tall, thin man with silver hair and wire-rimmed glasses entered. “Buongiorno, Dr. McAllister. I am Dr. Ricci.” His English was accented but clear. “How are you feeling?”
“Confused. Sore.” I tried to assess my own condition, but everything was still fuzzy. “What’s the damage?”
He pulled a chair over and sat. Not good. Doctors only sat when the news was complicated. “You were exposed to a concentrated chemical similar to arsenic.” He consulted his tablet. “Monsieur LaPierre explained that the pre-existing scarring was from an earlier chemical accident.”
I nodded, waiting for the bad news.
“What we observed over the past six days is… unusual. The new chemical burns were severe, as expected. We prepared for significant grafting, possibly multiple surgeries.” He paused, looking at Rav before looking at me. “But the healing has been remarkable. Not just the new wounds, but some of the old scars have also shown improvement. Tissue that should not regenerate has begun to.”
