Chapter 22 · Flesh and Cold Steel

"Hold him down or I'm going to slip and carve a new airway through his ribs," Silas snapped, his voice tight with a frantic energy.

Lucian felt Vesper’s fingers dig into his shoulders, pinning him flat against the cold, metallic slab of the operating table. The air in the basement clinic smelled of ozone, old blood, and the sharp, chemical sting of industrial disinfectant. There were no anesthetics. Not enough.

"You're actually doing this?" Vesper hissed, her face hovering inches from his. Her eyes were wide, scanning the room for the breach teams she knew were coming. "Silas, he's going to go into shock. Look at him. He's shaking."

"He's not shaking from fear, you idiot, he's shaking because his nerves are screaming," Silas countered. He didn't look up from the tray of biomechanical implants. He picked up a bone saw, the teeth gleaming under the flickering surgical lamps. "Now shut up and keep him still. If he flinches while I'm anchoring the spinal shunt, he'll be a vegetable for real this time."

Lucian let out a jagged breath, his teeth grinding together.