Chapter 13 · The Dead Man's Echo

The patient’s hand locked around Mira’s wrist before she could reach the scalpel.

“Let go,” she snapped.

The man stood barefoot on the examination table, his gray quarantine shirt hanging from his shoulders. Three minutes ago, he had been dead. No pulse. No breath. No response to pain.

Now his fingers squeezed hard enough to bruise.

His mouth opened.

A thin note crawled out of him.

Nora flinched behind Mira. “He was dead.”

“Very helpful,” Mira said. “Get me the restraint straps.”

The patient’s eyes rolled toward her. The whites were webbed with black lines. His throat moved with the next note, louder this time, sharp enough to hurt Mira’s teeth.

Silas Renn stood on the other side of the table, one hand resting on the hilt of his knife.

He didn’t look surprised.

Of course he didn’t.

“You knew this could happen,” Mira said.

“I knew he wasn’t finished.”

“You called him dead.”

“I called him useless.”

Mira jerked her wrist. The patient’s grip tightened.

“Silas.”

His eyes dropped to her hand, then lifted to her face. He took his time. That was the part she hated most. He liked the pause before he gave an order.