Page 40 of Traitor

I should've meant it when I told myself I didn't care.

Instead, I sit here in the dark, with a half-empty bottle of whiskey, with the echo of her name still rattling around inside me, with the suffocating, unbearable truth that I can't outrun—

I do care. And I'm hoping he calls me back with an update.

Ely

The next time I wake up, everything is too bright. The sharp scent of antiseptic stings my nose, the distant beep of machines filling the silence. I'm warm, cocooned in too many blankets, my body aching but no longer unbearably cold. The steady hum of something mechanical filters in. An IV drip, oxygen, things keeping me tethered to this world when I should have been left behind.

I shift, and pain lances through my side, through my throat. A choked sound escapes me, and instantly, there's movement beside me. A chair scraping against tile. Heavy boots.

Then, a voice.

"Easy, sweetheart."

Tank.

I blink, my vision sluggishly adjusting to the dim light. He's sitting beside the bed, leaning forward, arms braced on his knees, his face a mask of controlled rage. But his eyes... his eyes are something else.

Haunted.

"You scared the shit out of me," he mutters, shaking his head, rubbing a hand down his face. "Thought I was too late."

I swallow, regret burning like acid.

"You should've left me." My voice is barely a whisper, rasping and raw, a ghost of sound that shouldn't exist.

His jaw clenches. "Yeah? Well, too fucking bad."

I turn away, staring at the IV line snaking into my arm, at the stark white sheets that don't belong to me. "Where am I?"

"Hospital outside of town. They stitched you up, pumped you full of fluids. Said you were lucky. Another half hour and..." He trails off, but he doesn't need to finish.

I know how close I was.

I should have died.

I almost did.

Tank exhales sharply, his chair creaking as he shifts his weight. "You need anything?"

A bitter laugh, weak and empty, slips past my lips. "Yeah. A time machine."

He doesn't react right away. He just watches me, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then, he leans forward, his voice quiet, edged with steel. "Did he do this to you?"

I don't answer. I don't have to.

He curses under his breath, scrubbing a hand over his face. "That sick fuck..." His knuckles go white where they grip the armrest, tension radiating from every muscle in his body.

Silence stretches between us. I don't know what to say. I don't know how to feel. There's nothing left inside me but exhaustion.

Tank shifts again, his hand hovering over mine for a second before he pulls back. "I called Bones."

Everything inside me freezes.

Ice replaces the warmth Tank's presence gave me, my heart stuttering, then sinking into the abyss of my chest. I force myself to breathe, but it feels like inhaling glass.

I wet my lips, ignoring the way my throat protests. "And?"

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