Page 43 of Assassin

Poe didn’t take it personally.

If it was his brother, he’d feel the same.

He only wished his brother was still around so he could try and save him.

“I’ll get the file when I’m leaving. I need to talk to Gamble, and assess the situation. I hope you don’t mind. I have to see how bad it is.”

Maura clued him in.

“He won’t eat. He won’t bathe. He won’t do anything but try to die. We’re at a loss. We’ve rehabbed a few soldiers here, but he’s beyond our help.”

Yeah…

He’d had patients like that before.

“Don’t worry. I’m really good at what I do. I promise,” he offered.

Jagger was curious.

“How long does treatment take?” Jagger asked, wanting a ballpark number.

Poe was honest.

“As long as it takes. It could be weeks. It could be months. It could be a year. It depends on how fractured his psyche is, and if I can put it back together again. It’s a minute-by-minute process. I can’t rush it, and I’ll know when he’s healed, and ready to come home.”

That was what they were afraid of.

What if he never wanted to come back, and death was his chosen exit?

“Just fix him,” Maura said, pointing toward the door that kept Gamble safe.

Poe knew the assignment.

“I will. I promise.”

Heading into the room, it was dark in there, and he needed to see the patient. So, he walked to a curtain and pulled it back.

And jumped.

Right beside him, a man was sitting in a chair, and not in the bed.

His head was down, and he was clenching the arms of the chair as if he was holding on for dear life.

Shit.

That scared him.

It was very reminiscent of a movie where someone was being possessed.

As soon as he composed himself, he said his name.

“Gamble?” Poe asked, moving closer.

Slowly, the man raised his head, and it was a punch to the solar plexus.

His eyes.

His bi-colored eyes hit Poe hard. One was blue, crystal clear, and the other brownish gold, like that of a wild animal.

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