Chapter 20 · Morning Eighty-Four

Cole woke to the smell of antiseptic and burnt circuits.

His wrist throbbed where the chip used to be. The medical bay was quiet except for the hum of overhead lights and someone breathing close by. He turned his head. Ivy sat in a folding chair beside his cot, arms crossed, staring at the wall like it owed her money.

"Hey," he said.

She flinched. Her eyes snapped to him, and for half a second he saw something raw in them—relief, maybe, or fear. Then she looked away.

"You're awake."

"Yeah." He tried to sit up. Pain lanced through his ribs and he hissed, falling back against the thin pillow. "How long?"

"Six hours." Her voice was flat. "Nail wanted to move you to a real bed but I told him you'd wake up swinging."

Cole almost smiled. Then he remembered the screens. The red warning. The new mission parameters scrolling across every monitor in the room like a death sentence.

His throat went dry.

"Ivy."

"Don't." She stood abruptly, chair legs scraping concrete. "Don't say it."

"We need to talk about—"

"I said don't."

She walked to the other side of the bay, hands shoved in her jacket pockets.