Page 224 of Silent Target

“No, he isn’t.”

Caleb looks at me.

“Traitor.”

“You’re bleeding through two bandages and were struck in the chest by a bullet.”

“The armor stopped it.”

“The armor didn’t stop the bruising beneath it.”

The medic points toward the treatment area.

“She’s right.”

Caleb’s mouth tightens.

I take his hand.

“Please.”

That is what makes him move.

Inside the hangar, temporary treatment bays have been created with canvas dividers. Medical equipment hums beneath harsh white lights.

The medic cuts Caleb’s shirt away.

My breath catches.

His ribs are covered with dark bruises. The graze along his side has reopened, and a nearly black circle marks the place Victor’s bullet struck his armor.

Caleb watches my face.

“It looks worse than it is.”

“Stop saying that.”

The medic examines him. “No obvious rib instability, but I want imaging. The side wound needs stitches.”

“I can wait.”

“No,” the medic and I say together.

Caleb looks from one of us to the other.

“I’m outnumbered.”

“Yes.”

The medic cleans the wound.

Caleb doesn’t flinch when the antiseptic touches torn skin.

His fingers tighten around the edge of the table instead.

I cover his hand with mine.

The tension leaves his fingers.