“Fine,” I mutter, voice low. “We’ll do it my way.”
I spin back to Silas – no,Ghost– and grip his shoulders hard, shaking him like I’m rattling loose screws from a jar. “Snap out of it. You’re stronger than this. Don’t let him win.”
But his eyes are fogged glass, body trembling, slipping away fast. Donnelly circles like a coyote, knife flashing, voice smooth as venom.
“That’s it. Good boy. Pain’s the only language you weak fucks understand.”
Something in me snaps. “Enough.”
My fist slams into Ghost’s chest, shoving him back into the wall with a meaty thud. His eyes widen – shock breaking through the haze – and before he can fade again, I drive my boot into his ribs. Once. Twice. Controlled, precise. The kind of hurt that grounds a man instead of killing him.
Ghost curses, sharp and real. Donnelly and Silas vanish like smoke. The tremors don’t stop, but the shutters creak open just enough for him to claw his way back.
My stomach twists with guilt. Hurting him never sits right, but it’s the only thing that works.
I crouch, hold my hand out. “It’s alright. You’re back. Let’s get out of here. Forget those two ever happened.”
Ghost blinks at me, lips twitching into the barest ghost of a smile. “Thanks. Needed that. They teamed up on me – then Donnelly turned on Silas. Thought he’d finish us off this time.”
“Nah. Mostly cosmetic damage,” I lie, eyes flicking to the blood soaking his leg, his shirt, the floor. Cosmetic my ass. “We’ll get you patched up.”
I hook his arm over my shoulder, bracing his weight.
That’s when Nightshade storms into view, filling the corridor like a thundercloud. His gaze rakes over the blood, the wrecked equipment, Ghost sagging between us. Every muscle in him hums with violence barely contained.
“What the hell happened here?” His voice is pure venom.
“Donnelly and Silas,” Ghost croaks, grimacing. “Things got heated.”
Nightshade exhales hard, dragging a hand over his face. “That’s all we fucking need.”
“We’re getting him to the med room,” I say. He doesn’t argue – just moves beside me, sharp and silent, but eyes darting constantly, alert for god-knows-what. I’m too distracted to ask.
The med room looks like hell. Broken glass, overturned tables, the smell of metal and bleach thick in the air. Nightshade doesn’t hesitate. He works fast, precise, cleaning and stitching with surgical efficiency.
“Where the fuck is everyone?” I ask, scanning the halls. “No guards, no staff, no Seytan. And what the hell happened in here?”
“The doc’s gone,” Nightshade says flatly.
Ghost frowns. “Gone? Why would?—”
“You know Kayla’s missing. So is the doctor. We don’t yet know whether they were taken…or whether Calloway facilitated it.”
The words hit me like a live wire. My body goes cold, then hot. “Say that again.”
“You heard,” he bites out. “Chopper’s missing and everyone’s on high alert. Asylum’s going into full lockdown.”
Ghost’s voice breaks. “You’re lying.”
“I wish I was.” Nightshade’s hands don’t stop moving as he ties off a suture.
My chest caves in. For a second, I can’t breathe. Then rage floods in, bright and clean. “Who took her?”
“If I knew,” Nightshade snarls, “they’d already be dead.”
I slam my fist into the table, making the instruments jump. “She was right here! She was safe!”
“Safe?” Nightshade spits the word like it offends him. “No one’s safe in this fucking place. They called her property, Honey. Said the child she’s carrying belongs to the asylum.” The words drop like ice water. “They’ll hide her, run experiments, control it. I’m not letting that happen.”
