There were limits to her energy and she disregarded them at her peril.
She had had two patients thus far. No longer than a night ago, she had washed and remade the bed on the far end, where that human woman had been, where Lucan had watched over her.
Where the wolven had fallen in love with his fated mate.
From Nadya’s post in the shadows, she had witnessed the favor growing between them, and she’d recognized it for what it was: a blessing granted by destiny. A relief of suffering, a source of hope in turmoil, a direction when all seemed lost.
A destination when one had no home.
After the woman had left, Nadya had taken similar care with the washing of the sheets and blankets. She had known that Rio would not be back, assuming she survived the return to her people—and therefore she had known that Lucan would not return, for wherever that woman would be, he would go. Thus to honor them, she had strippedand reconstructed the bedding with precision, as if her efforts could somehow impact their future.
As if she held magic in her hands and could aid them along their journey.
Looking back down, she stared at the bed before her. Then she splayed her hands wide once more and ran them over the blankets. As the texture of the coarse wool registered, she pictured the patient who had lain there returning to her clinic, as if she could summon him by will alone. She visualized him coming back to her in the same manner he had first arrived, with Apex and Mayhem holding his weight up by the armpits, his feet not touching the concrete, his head loose, his body injured in shocking ways…
But his eyes seeking her out even though her face was hidden beneath her hood.
She imagined Kane with utter specificity, his raw burn wounds, his patchy hair, his mouth drawn tight from the suffering. His withered limbs. His clawed hands that were missing fingers.
She had done what she could for him, but her efforts had made little difference. He had remained on the verge of death until the night before, when the guards had taken him away roughly, with no regard for his compromised condition.
She’d tried to stop them. But the male who had manhandled him had put a gun to her head. She would never forget the look in those cold, pale eyes.
After Kane had been forcefully removed, she’d left the bed as it was, as if it were a beacon Kane’s destiny could locate only if she didn’t change the sheeting. Which was so stupid.
He was not coming back. And his end had been a terrible one.
She told herself he was finally at peace now. Up in the Fade. With his beloved mate, about whom he had spoken in his delirium.
Sitting down, the rusty springs creaked under her weight, and she had never heard a more lonely sound. Putting her hand on the freshly laundered case, she pictured what hair Kane had had left and tried tofeel its texture, its softness, as if she could bring him back if her memories were clear enough.
But that was not how resuscitation worked. Or resurrection—
“Missing someone?”
Nadya jumped up and steadied herself as best she could. The female who loomed in the open doorway was framed by the aisle created by the two blocks of shelving rows. Standing over six feet tall and dressed for war, her powerful body was belted with weapons, her lean, intelligent face drawn in cunning lines. In a prison camp full of depravity and survival instinct run rampant, she was in charge of the guards, running the male squadrons with an iron fist.
Nadya’s heart skipped beats and she pulled her hooding down farther, even though it was already in place.
The head of the guards came forward. That she was alone was unusual. That she was utterly unconcerned with a lack of defense behind her was not.
She had taken over after the Executioner was killed, and there would be no one who would get uphill of her.
“You wait until spoken to,” she commented in her deep voice.
Nadya bowed slightly, and kept the truth to herself. It was not respect that made her silent, and also not fear. All she could think of was the way that guard had pulled Kane up off the bed by the arm, and even though Kane had cried out in pain, there had been no deference shown for his condition. For the fact that he was already suffering.
Instead, there had been cruel delight. And that horrible male had been sent down here by one and only one person.
Hatred was the reason for the silence.
“I have injured guards,” their leader announced. “I’m bringing them here to you. Tell me the supplies you don’t have and I’ll get them for you.”
Nadya cleared her throat. “What kind of injuries?”
“Does it matter? You’re going to have to save them one way or another.”
“If you want me to tell you what I need, you’re going to have to tell me what I’m treating.”