Chapter 8 · The Needle Mark

"You need to see this." I shoved the tent flap aside and dragged Huo Yanzhan into the burned-out quarantine section before he could give me that look—the one that said I was overstepping again.

He didn't pull away. That should've been my first warning.

"See what?" His voice was flat, controlled. The kind of controlled that meant he'd been awake for thirty hours and was running on spite and duty.

"This." I crouched next to the body. The dead soldier was face-down in the ash, right where I'd found him an hour ago. I rolled him over—rigor mortis hadn't set in yet, so he'd died recently. Maybe while I was washing my hands. Maybe while Jingchuan was sitting up and asking for water.

I yanked the soldier's sleeve up. "Look at his arm."

Huo knelt beside me. His shoulder brushed mine. The space was tight, the air still acrid with smoke, and I could feel the heat coming off him even through the layers of armor and padding.

"What am I looking at?"

"Needle mark." I pointed. "Right there. Insertion site, clean puncture, same angle as Jingchuan's. Same placement."

His eyes narrowed.