Theiionroomwasquiet—nothingbutthetiny,regurdripofliquidile,aeadyhumoftheoldairditioner.
ElianhadsprinteddownNanyangStreetin30°C(86°F)heatwithaheavybackpahisshoulder,thencarriedoutanadrenaline-fueled“patientcaptureoperation.”Nowthateverythinghadfinallygoill,theic’scooirwashedoverhim,andthemomenthismusclesunched,exhaustiediide.
He’dooleanagainstthewalhiseyesforased.ButlisteningtoCra’sbreathinggraduallysmoothoutasthefevermedietookeffect,hisownawarenessblurredwithit.
Stillholdingherlefthand,hedriftedintosleep.
Abouthalfanhourpassed.
Theclearliquidfinallyreachedtheend,andthelinegaveafainthollowsound.
“TheIV’sdone!I’mgoingtoremovetheneedlenow,”thenursesaidbrightlyasshepushedthestainless-steelcartba.Hervoicebroketheroom’squiet—andcarriedstraightintoElian’ssleep.
Elianwasoutcold.Hisbraindidn’teveimetoprocessthewords.
Ised,asharp,searingpainexplodedinhispalm—
“Hss—!”
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