“How long?” The question scraped my throat raw.
“Two weeks. Maybe three if we’re lucky.”
The world stopped.
Two weeks.
Xavier had two weeks before the device in his brain killed him.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. The coffee mug slipped from my numb fingers. Would’ve hit the floor except Xavier caught it with reflexes I still didn’t understand, set it carefully on the table.
His other hand stayed locked on mine. Steady. Grounding.
“There has to be a way to stop it.” I heard myself talking from very far away. “Remove the device. Shut it down. Something.”
“Removing it is possible but dangerous. The filaments are threaded through major blood vessels. One tear during extraction and he bleeds out before we can get him to an operating table.” Hellhound’s voice stayed maddeningly calm. “Shutting it down is theoretically safer, but requires deactivation codes we don’t have.”
“Then get the codes.”
“They’re held in Oblivion’s secure servers. Accessing them means infiltrating their network.”
“Can you remove it?” My voice stayed clinical. Nurse mode. Survival mode.
“Not safely. Not without killing him in the process.” Hellhound leaned back. “The device is integrated into his cardiovascular system. One wrong move and he bleeds out before we get him to an OR.”
“Then what do we do?”
“We deactivate it.” Havoc pushed off from the fireplace. “The system has override codes. We get the codes, shut down the chemical release, stop the overdose from progressing.”
“And you have these codes?” I already knew the answer.
“No.” Havoc’s smile was sharp. “But Oblivion does. In their Geneva headquarters. Where Dresner keeps all his precious data on his precious experiments.”
Oh good. Simple then. Break into the headquarters of the organization that sent a kill team after us, steal classified medical codes, and hope we didn’t all die in the process.
Fantastic.
“There’s another option.” I heard myself say it before I’d fully thought it through. “I can manage the symptoms. Keep him stable. Buy time to figure out another solution.”
“You’re a nurse, not a neurosurgeon.” Hellhound’s tone wasn’t cruel, just factual. “You can’t stop brain tissue from dying.”
“No. But I can reduce intracranial pressure. Manage inflammation. Monitor for seizures and cognitive deterioration. Keep him alive while you two figure out how to get those codes.” I looked between them. “That’s what you do, right? Impossible infiltrations? Stealing from the people who made you?”
Havoc’s grin widened. “I like her.”
“She should leave.” Hellhound stood, moving toward the bookshelf. “This isn’t her fight. Dresner’s kill team saw her face. She’s a target now. Best thing she can do is disappear. New identity, new country, new life.”
“No.” The word came out flat, absolute.
Three pairs of eyes turned toward me.
“I’m not leaving.”
“Miss Bolton...”
“Clare.” I cut Hellhound off. “And I said no.”
“You don’t understand what you’re...”
