“Hello, Sophia,” he said with his usual smile. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” I said, but at his skeptical face, I added, “Just nervous.”
He gestured toward the cot.
While I lay face down, Adam stood guard just past the curtain. None of my fellow medics had greeted me, but I hadn’t made eye contact with anyone.
As Dr. Grayson worked, I clutched Zara’s hand—more from fear than pain. Whatever the scars looked like under the glue, that’s how they’d be forever.
I met Zara’s eyes and whispered, “Distract me.”
She forced a smile onto her pretty lips and told an inane story about a patient she’d had long before the war started who gave her one ripe banana every single day because he felt potassium was the key to eternal life. We then lamented for long minutes about how much we missed fresh fruit while I pretended the burning in my back didn’t exist.
“If the war ever ends, the first thing I’ll do is bake a banana cream pie,” Zara said, and I giggled.
“I’m finished, Sophia,” Dr. Grayson said. “Would you like to see it?”
Butterflies tickled my insides as I stood, and Dr. Grayson led me to a mirror hanging in his office. He gave me a hand mirror. Taking a deep breath, I angled it to see my back.
The lines glowed pink and shiny, thinner than I imagined, but standing out stark against my skin. Miller cut the emblem large enough to be seen from a distance. Crude and uneven, it spoke of pain and hatred.
After several minutes of staring at my back, I let my shirt drop. I forced down the memories crowding my mind. When I looked up, I met the sad gazes of all three. Adam was the first to speak. “One day, I’ll pay for a massive tattoo to cover it, okay?”
I managed a weak smile.
“Sophia!” a voice shouted from the entrance to the hospital wing.
I poked my head outside Dr. Grayson’s office to find Devon hurrying my way.
“What is it?”
“The Prime Delegate is here,” he said, breathless. “They’re interviewing him.”
A fresh shot of adrenaline killed the residual sting in my back, and I darted for the door.
“Wait, Sophia!” Adam called, his heavier steps following me.
My shoes squeaked across the marble, drawing all eyes my way, but I didn’t care. I skidded to the main stairs and pounded down them, only to stop short at the open door to the stockade.
The guard there rolled his eyes at me. “They took Limpdick upstairs an hour ago.”
Adam caught up to me. “You’re supposed to wait for me.”
I ignored him to address the guard. “Did they go to Theo’s office?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know? I’m just glad he’s gone.”
I spun, and Adam hustled with me back up the stairs.
“What are you going to do?” he asked. “You can’t just barge in.”
But that was exactly what I planned to do. We rounded the decorative stairs again and again until we reached the top floor, and I froze at the large guard unit blocking the hallway to Theo’s office.
“Holy shit,” Adam muttered.
I scowled. “Do they really need this many guards? He’s just one man.”
“One man who speaks knife as his native language,” Adam muttered under his breath.
