Page 67 of A Warrior's Fate

Two turns down two different barren hallways separated her from the eventual source of light, near a man guarding a door. She didn’t recognize him which was good and all part of the plan. From what the boys had found out, this was the one guard put on duty with no affiliation to their pack, and he’d be switched out as soon as decisions were made on Lukas’s fate. If he’d be brought to Io as a prisoner or have a chance to recover here or home.

As she made her way down the hall, Isla didn’t try to mask her presence. The goal wasn’t to sneak up on him. It was, in fact, for him to act exactly as he had. Bracing at the sudden appearance and relaxing upon seeing it was simply her…a nurse.

After a brief exchange that was almost too easy with the man asking if she wanted him to remain with her inside Lukas’s room as protection—which she declined—Isla reached for the door’s handle.

And she hesitated.

The marker was heavy in her pocket. Her scalpel, with the blade capped by a makeshift sheath, tucked into her waistband. Not to be used, but just in case.

Isla didn’t know what to expect, but she knew what to hope for. What she wanted. By some miracle, they would both walk out of that room with answers. He with who he was, and she with what it all meant.

Her eyes briefly drifted upwards. Don’t let me lose him again.

After one more subtle deep breath, Isla pushed the door and stepped inside to find Lukas reading. That alone almost sent her stumbling back. He was supposed to be tranquilized, restrained, stripped of everything. And she couldn’t imagine, with all hostility towards him, a novel would’ve been offered for his enjoyment.

Either way, one of those things was certainly true, white binds were visible on his wrists, latching him to the bed. But he was well-awake and so entranced by the pages of his book, which barely spanned taller or wider than his own hands, that he hadn’t even bothered looking up until the door closed behind her. Her stomach turned when the sight made him flinch. She knew it wasn’t anything specific towards her, especially when she caught sight of the bruising on his body that she wished she could blame on the darkness of last night for not noticing.

His chestnut eyes became focused on her face, and as when he had emerged, she couldn’t find that spark there anymore, that light. Nothing of the man who she’d caught studying a painting off to the side of the feast, who’d known a surprising amount of Callisto’s art history. Nothing of the man who’d been rendered into a stuttering mess upon seeing her bare body, who’d apparently pictured it beforehand.

He just felt cold. Empty. A stranger.

But just lost, she reminded herself. Lost and scared.

“Hi.” Her voice was as syrupy as it had been on the guard outside. The one she could very faintly hear talking until it faded as Adrien drew his prying ears away.

Step one—complete.

Isla noticed a file sitting on a table set at the foot of his bed. Maybe a bit too eagerly, she reached for it and flipped it open, only to be disappointed to find the notes brief.

Lukas had just been called Patient, noted as being traumatized and an amnesiac with no trace of him having been in the Hunt at all. Only one other nurse had cycled through since he was brought in, Isla sneaking in before the second meant to replace her. He was due for his tranquilizers soon, which may have explained why he was so awake.

“You’re not a nurse.”

Isla’s eyes snapped up to meet his. His voice had been even and cool, the easiest he’d ever spoken to her. Even more so than when he’d so confidently boasted his knowledge to her of the marker.

She made sure to keep her face impassive, not fearful of being caught. “What makes you say that?”

“Because the other two have had someone come in beforehand to threaten me,” he bemused, and the smirk he wore, so unlike him, almost made her skin crawl.

But maybe she’d been so distracted by what he’d said that she couldn’t focus on it.

“Other two?”

“You nurses don’t talk out there?”

Isla blinked but recovered quickly. “Apparently not.” She feigned amusement, storing that fact about the second nurse away for later. She held up the folder. “They didn’t write anything.”

“They brought their own. You came unprepared,” Lukas jeered. “Strike two—nurse.”

Isla kept her eyes from narrowing, both in focused thought and slight annoyance with his heckling. “What time did they come in? They weren’t on the schedule.”

He shrugged. “Not long after the first, I don’t think. But then again, I was out of it. The storm was over.”

“What did they look like? Maybe I can—”

“No, my turn,” Lukas said with a raised finger. “All I’ve gotten is questions and beatings, and no one will give me answers.”

Isla pursed her lips, trying not to break under the weight of any guilt she felt. “What makes you think I’ll give you them?”

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