Page 61 of Savage Warrior

Megan chooses that moment to enter, pushing an empty wheelchair.

Ethan grins. “Ah, your carriage awaits, sir.”

He and Megan help me off the trolley I’ve been lolling on and into the wheelchair. Megan thanks the other doctor, and Ethan shoves me from the room.

Megan leads the way up to the next floor, explaining as we go.

“They’re probably going to have to remove her spleen, which is serious, but she should pull through, barring complications.”

My heart sinks. “Spleen? What does that do? Will she manage without it?”

“People do. It’s part of the immune system, but the liver will take over most of its job. It helps to fight infections.”

“But—”

Megan is brisk and matter-of-fact. “She’ll be on antibiotics for the rest of her life but she should be able to cope.”

Fuck. If those Russians weren’t already dead, I’d remove each of their spleens with a knife and fork. Still, I gather there is one of the fuckers left for me to play with.

“She’s in here.”

We’ve reached a side room. Megan opens the door and gestures us inside.

I’d expected Arina to be the worse for wear but still I’m shocked. She’s so tiny, lying there in the hospital bed. And she looks so very young. Her pallid skin is almost translucent under the harsh hospital lighting. Her chest rises and falls slowly, and she is surrounded by machines. A bag of fluid is suspended from a stand, dripping slowly into her arm. The gadgetry bleeps, flashes, whirrs, in contrast to Arina’s almost unearthly stillness.

Christ! I reach for her hand, careful not to dislodge the wire trailing from it.

“She’s heavily sedated,” Megan explains. “But she’s comfortable.”

“Can she hear me?”

“Maybe.” She exchanges a glance with Ethan. “Would you like us to wait outside?”

I nod. “Thank you.”

They turn to leave.

“Ethan…”

He pauses.

“Thank you for everything. Today, I mean. We’d both be dead now if you hadn’t…”

He smiles at me. “You’re welcome”

CHAPTER 16

Arina

So cold.

I shiver, hug myself. It makes no difference. My teeth are chattering, I cannot get warm. I try to move, but it’s too much effort. Everything is too heavy, like lead.

Everything hurts. Everywhere. Pain is bone-deep. There is nothing else.

Somewhere, in the distance, people are talking. Low, urgent whispers.

What are they saying? I strain to hear, but it’s too faint, too far away.

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