I held his stare. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“Permanent shunts like this can sometimes become fused with the vein itself.” Roger returned my hand to the desk. “Without imaging, haemostatic gel, or a surgical team...” He straightened as if fortifying himself to give bad news. “If we tried to remove them like this—in a room not equipped and with no emergency gear on hand—we could run the risk of rupturing.”
“So?”
“So?”Harry scoffed. “You’d bleed out in under a minute.”
“Wait.” Rook sucked in a breath. “It’s that dangerous?”
“I don’t care,” I hissed. “Just get it over with.”
“Your haemoglobin levels don’t match your blood volume,” Roger said, frowning at my arm. “You can’t afford to lose any more—”
“I’m not arguing with you.” My teeth ground together. “I’ll ask nicely one last time, then the panther will ask instead.”
Whisper helpfully exposed his fangs with a rabid snarl.
The two doctors tensed but Harry shrugged. “Hey, it’s your funeral. I’ll agree to remove the ports. But that thing in your chest? I’m not touching it.”
I went deathly still. “You don’t have a choice. That’s the most important part.”
“Anything dealing with the heart must be done in a controlled, sterile environment where we can monitor every vital you have,” Roger said, keeping a careful eye on Whisper. “We’re not refusing to be awkward. It would genuinely be a life-threatening procedure, and your chances of survival would be negligible.”
“Whisper—”
Whisper snarled and strode forward.
Roger rushed, “We don’t have ventilators to work your lungs while you’re under general anaesthesia. We don’t have imaging. We don’t have the necessary tools. It’s just not possible. Regardless of whether you order the cat to eat us alive or not.”
“I don’t think you understand. This is non-negotiable. Ineedit out of me. I need my heart back.”
Roger shifted closer, looming over me. “Then I might as well just kill you now and save us the stress of trying.”
Whisper hissed and stalked toward him.
I didn’t call him off.
“Fine.” Roger sagged. “Fine, alright? Tell that bloody beast not to bite me.” He pointed at the vitalsync core and the raw, angry skin around it. “May I?”
Nodding, I stared straight at the ceiling as Roger leaned closer.
My skin crawled as he inspected it from all angles, touching the green and red lights that were currently off, making me flinch as he prodded at the inflamed flesh that had never accepted the implant.
Perhaps that was the reason I burned all the time—my immune system was trying to melt it out of my body.
His touch spread wider, feathering out from the vitalsync as if he could trace the wires beneath my skin.
I held my breath, fighting the urge to rip his throat out—
Straps biting into my wrists and ankles.
The stink of antiseptic clogging my throat.
Hands.
Far, far too many hands pinning my shoulders as I thrashed and screamed.
I didn’t want to be here.
