Chapter 13 · Hydraulic Bleed

The second shell hit low and blew the west wall straight into the bay.

I was on my knees on the triage floor when the concussion caught me, shoving me sideways into the steel cart. Trays came down across my shoulders in a hail of clamps and scalpels. For three full seconds, the universe narrowed to one deafening whine—a teakettle screaming inside my skull.

Then the stench hit.

Sweet. Coppery. Sick.

Silver smoke.

It was mine. I synthesized it. Kept it triple-locked in cold storage below the floorboards. And someone had just aerosolized my own pharmacy and fed it right back to me.

"Mama?"

Maya's voice cut down the stairwell. Small. Rigid with that brittle kind of bravery only a terrified six-year-old could manage.

"Stay upstairs!" My throat tasted like ground glass. I spat blood and shoved myself off the tile. "Maya! Take Leo! Bathroom, wet towels wedged under the door. Both of you. Do it right now!"

"Nora."

Julian stood framed in the archway, knuckles white where he had his torn shirt jammed against his cracked ribs. The gauze underneath had rotted out gray two days ago.