“What did you do? You said we were safe here.”
A new voice answered. Deep and unnerving. The kind of calm that came from men who exuded so much fear they no longer needed to raise their voice.
“He wouldn’t stop running. And I wasn’t interested in a ten-mile foot chase through across South Chicago.”
Gage scowled in the direction of that voice. “So you treated him like a rabid animal.”
“It was a mild tranquilizer,” he said boredly. “He’s fine.”
Gage squeezed Scar’s shoulder, shaking him gently.
“Hey,” he croaked, fear lacing his voice. “Scar. Scar, wake up. It’s me.”
Nothing. Scar’s body stayed heavy and unresponsive.
“Corvo,” Jo called over the scuffing of movement. “Report.”
“The sedative dose was approved,” another man answered from somewhere to Gage’s left. “Vitals were stable all the way in. No signs of distress or reaction. He’s just out.”
“Gage, I told Meridian to bring Scar in without being harmed. But Scar was putting up a serious fight, so I understand his use of the sedative.” Jo said, her breath brushing across Gage’s chin. “His gang was hunting him, we needed to get him out of Chicago fast. When he wakes up, if he doesn’t want to stay, he can go. Just like you can. No one here is captive.”
The gurney jerked and started moving again.
“Where are you taking him?” he demanded, tightening his grip on the rail.
“To the medical wing for monitoring,” a woman said in a clipped, distant tone. “It’s standard protocol after field extraction—”
“Over my dead body.” Gage planted his feet, bringing the gurney to a hard stop.
“You’re welcome to stay beside him the whole time,” Jo said.
“Right,” Gage bit out. “When I can’t see what you’re doing to him.”
“You won’t be alone, Gage.”
He recognized Valor’s growly voice. “Roz can stay with you. Zorion will also be inside, and I’ll stand outside the door. No one gets in without your say-so. Not even Jo. You have my word.”
Gage hesitated as Scar’s pulse thumped steadily under his fingertips.
“Fine,” he muttered. “But if anyone tries anything, I’m done being polite.”
“Understood,” Jo said quietly. “Dr. Jules, take them to med bay C.”
The gurney rolled forward again. Gage walked beside it, one hand glued to the side rail, the other on Scar’s forearm, feeling the flex and slack of drugged muscle under his palm.
They made a sharp left, as a set of doors swished open, and frigid air wrapped around his bare ankles.
The room they entered sounded bigger, their footsteps echoing off the walls. The sharpness of antiseptic and the metallic tang of surgical tools made Gage’s stomach churn.
The gurney clanked and locked into place.
“Gage, I’m Dr. Jules, the Deputy Chief Medical Officer,” she said in a relaxed manner. “This is a pulse oximeter monitor I’m putting on his finger, so I can keep track of his heart rate and oxygen levels.”
Gage tensed.
“I’m watching, G,” Roz reported from the other side of the bed. “Did you know his hair was white?”
I remember it turning, but I never saw the final result.
