“Mr. Wilde,” he said, moving to check the monitors beside his bed. “Good to see you awake. I’m Dr. Faulkner.”
“What’s the damage?” Dom asked.
“Gunshot wound to the left shoulder, through and through. The bullet tore through the deltoid and damaged part of your scapula. You lost a significant amount of blood. We’ve repairedwhat we could surgically, but you’re looking at months of physical therapy.”
He grimaced. “How long till I’m back in the field?”
Dr. Faulkner’s expression didn’t change. “That depends on how well you follow medical advice. Best case? Four to six months.”
“Bullshit,” he muttered. “I’ll be ready in two.”
“Only if you want to lose function in that arm permanently.” Dr. Faulkner checked his IV, made a note on his tablet. “The muscle damage was extensive. Push too hard too soon, and you’ll undo everything we repaired.”
Vivi’s hand tightened on his. “He’ll follow doctor’s orders,” she said, shooting him a look that dared him to contradict her.
Dr. Faulkner nodded. “I’ll check back in this evening. The nurse will be in shortly to administer your next round of medication.” He left as efficiently as he’d arrived, the door clicking shut behind him.
“Months?” Dom groaned. “I’ll go stir-crazy.”
“Better than dead,” Vivi said sharply. Then, softer: “You almost were, you know. Dead.”
He looked at her and saw how close to the edge she was. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her complexion pale beneath the golden tan she always maintained. Her hand trembled slightly where it held his.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “I’m okay.”
She swallowed. “Now you are.”
A nurse entered then. She checked Dom’s vitals, adjusted his IV, and administered another dose of pain medication that immediately made the room feel softer around the edges.
“This will help you rest,” the nurse said. “Don’t fight it.”
Dom didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to talk to Vivi, to ask her about Sabin, about what happened after he passed out.But the medication pulled at him, dragging him back toward darkness.
“Stay?” he managed to ask, his eyelids growing heavier by the second.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised.
He drifted off with her hand still in his, the last thing he felt before consciousness slipped away again.
Time stretched and condensed in the weird way it did with heavy painkillers. Dom surfaced occasionally, aware of Vivi still in the chair beside him, sometimes talking quietly to others, sometimes just sitting in silence. Once he woke to find Davey standing at the foot of his bed, deep in conversation with her, both of them stopping abruptly when they realized he was awake.
“Hey, little brother,” Davey said, moving to stand beside him. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I got shot,” Dom replied, voice still rough.
Davey’s mouth quirked in a half-smile. “That’ll happen when you jump in front of bullets.”
“Any update on Sabin?” Dom asked, looking between Davey and Vivi.
They exchanged a glance that sent unease crawling up his spine.
“It’s complicated,” Davey said finally. “Daphne’s identified the conditioning technique—it’s similar to what happened in that Montana town thirty years ago. She thinks she can break it, but it’s going to take time.”
“And until then?”
“He stays sedated,” Vivi said quietly. “It’s safer that way.”
Dom nodded and drifted off as another dose of medication hit his bloodstream through his IV.
