Chapter 30 · Look at the ceiling

The words came out too low. Too honest.

Her grip tightened around the clamp.

"Look at the ceiling," she said.

"Why?"

"Because if you keep looking at me, I might forget which one of us is the patient."

Silas obeyed.

That should have made the work easier.

It didn't.

Mira made the first cut.

Silas's hand slammed flat against the table. The wood groaned, but he made no sound.

"Breathe," she said.

"I am."

"Not like that. Slow."

"You giving breathing lessons now?"

"Yes. In for four. Hold for two. Out for four."

"You count."

"You follow orders."

He drew in a breath.

"One. Two. Three. Four."

The black lines beneath his skin shuddered.

Mira adjusted the clamp. A bead of dark fluid surfaced. It smoked when it hit the metal tray.

Silas's jaw locked.

"Stay with me," she said.

"I'm here."

"No, you're drifting. Look at me."

His eyes found hers.

"There. Good. Keep your eyes open."

"You sound like you care."

"I care if you ruin my table."

"Liar."

The word caught between them.

Mira pressed harder. "You don't get to call me that."

"Why not? You lie every time you say this is only about the work."