Page 24 of Danger Close
But the ache lingered.The broken and cracked ribs lingered like a bad memory.
Not just the physical throb in his side when he moved too fast or breathed too deep.That was background noise now.What gnawed at him was the weightless, hollow feeling behind his ribs.Like he’d lost something essential in that dark warehouse in the hills—something no antibiotics or med scans could put back.
The infirmary was quiet this morning.Clean.Clinical.
The walls painted in that generic beige that screamed we care but not too much.The windows were barred—standard for Ridge security—and sunlight filtered through them in harsh white streaks, slicing the room into stripes like a prison cell pretending to be a sanctuary.
It shouldn’t surprise him that the infirmary on Obsidian Ridge was equipped so well—nothing but the best for the Pathfinders.And between Marsh, Hogan, and Ricky, all of whom were trained medics, and Blake who was a registered nurse, there were plenty of medical personnel on hand to help.And when they needed a doctor, they simply brought one in.
Ezra sat on the edge of the metal-framed hospital bed, elbows on knees, fingers linked in front of him like he was praying to some god of clarity that never answered.The sheet beneath him crackled slightly when he shifted.Across from him, the closed door stared back, silent, unmoving.
Waiting.He knew what it was waiting for.Ricky didn’t come that morning.Hadn’t come the one before either.
And Ezra hated how much that mattered.
Right after the op, Ricky had barely left the room.Ezra remembered waking up to water being held to his lips, painkillers pressed gently into his hand, whispered jokes rasped into his ear when nightmares threatened to drag him under again.Once, when the meds they had given him had spiked wrong, Ezra had thrashed, crying out, not knowing where he was, and Ricky had climbed into the narrow bed behind him, pulled him close and held on until the tremors stopped.
He had lain there, talking to Ezra in low calm tones, telling him about what had happened during that day, keeping him tethered to the now.He was most thankful for that.He was often pulled back into his past, and it sucked when that happened.
And now?Now, he barely showed.
Ricky came by in the early hours—checked vitals, asked the med techs for updates, maybe dropped off a protein bar if he was feeling generous—but he never stayed.
Never sat and talked with him.
Never looked Ezra in the eye for longer than a second.The space he left behind in the room felt colder than the concrete under Ezra’s bare feet.
He stood up abruptly, pacing with restless energy that left his bandaged side screaming.The ankle monitor that the med techs had rigged to track his physical therapy clicked faintly against the tile floor with each step, marking time like a metronome in a funeral dirge.
That was how Marsh found him.
Boots in the hallway.A knock.Then the medic stepped inside, a thin manila folder tucked under one arm and a faint sheen of sweat on his brow.
“Got some decent news,” Marsh said without preamble.“We decrypted a good chunk of the file.One of the relay nodes linked to a Bratya-affiliated transport shell in Sofia.Some of the girls have already been tracked to safehouses—we’re working on coordinated recovery now.DEA’s working the case with Interpol and Greek authorities.Multiple teams are active.”
Ezra turned slowly.His voice cracked through the dryness in his throat.“Van’s girl?”
Marsh’s eyes dropped to the file for a second.“Sophia.Age five and a half.It’s her, Ezra.She’s on the list.No confirmed location yet—but one of the handlers, a mid-level operative named Fabritsius, handled placements through Albania and into Serbia.Kai’s got an eye on his financials.Something’s moving.”
Ezra exhaled, long and shaky.“Then, we’re close.”
Marsh nodded.“Closer than ever.”
Ezra rubbed at his face with both hands, feeling suddenly drained.“What about Ricky?”
Marsh hesitated, then moved to the window, looking out.“He asks how you’re doing.Every shift.Checks logs.Checked with me yesterday about your recovery metrics—said you’ll be walking the south field next week if your stats hold.”
Ezra blinked.“He said that?”
“He did.”Marsh turned and leaned back against the frame.“He’s keeping his distance, yeah.But he’s not checked out.He’s actually here every night after your sedative kicks in and you’re asleep.He’s just ...cautious.You know Ricky.He doesn’t play casual with emotion.”
He’s here every night?Of course he is.
Ezra’s voice was brittle.“He thinks I left him.”
“You kinda did,” Marsh said gently.“I don’t know what went down between you two, but the day you disappeared, he did to.Maybe not physically, but he disappeared all the same.”
Ezra flinched.“I thought it’d be easier.”
