“…m’sorry…I left you…”
Gage’s breath punched out of him.
Scar’s mouth moved sluggishly, his eyelids barely fluttering, still trapped somewhere between sedation, memories, and consciousness.
He leaned closer, his forehead brushing Scar’s temple.
“I forgive you…just don’t ever do it again.”
“Finally,” Valor huffed. “The White Ravens.”
White Ravens
Scar
Awareness didn’t return so much as stalk him.
He was floating. Weightless. Boneless. Caught in that strange half-world where dreams felt real and reality was drugged.
His limbs were unattached parts, and his heartbeat thudded as if he were trying to breathe underwater.
Something warm blew across his cheek. A voice—soft, melodic, and familiar—kept saying his name.
“It’s me…Gage…”
His brow twitched.
That name hollowed him out.
In the drifting dark, he battled with the one thing he always chased off when he was awake.
Regret.
He wished he hadn’t left Gage in that fuckin’ barn. Wished he hadn’t been an asshole every time he saw him on the block, and they hadn’t been on opposite sides of the city. Wished he’d been man enough to—
The fog snapped, and Scar remembered.
The chase.
The snow.
The men who moved in silence.
Being tackled.
The sting of something piercing his back.
Shadows looming.
Blackness.
Scar forced his heavy eyelids open. His vision was grainy and refusing to focus. The stench of hospital-clean air stung his nose, sterilizers and bleach strong enough to gag him filtered through the haze.
He’d been caught.
Scar exploded off the table like a detonated bomb.
Adrenaline burned hot through his veins like oil set on fire. His pulse roared in his ears as his boots landed on the floor.
