Page 47 of Flame and Fury

“Ow.” I barely gasp out the word before my eyelids get too heavy. Blackness creeps into the edges of my vision. It’s crawling down my arm; it’s swallowing me whole. Until finally, it’s all I know.

CHAPTER26

WREN

I’ve had this dream before. I’m riding in a car down an endless bumpy road. There’s no air conditioning so my skin is sticky with sweat, and everything hurts from sitting for so long. I’m also a little queasy from being stuck in the sweltering backseat.

My car hits a pothole, and then swears. “Shit, watch where you're going.”

It’s weird that my car is talking.

“What difference does it make? If she doesn’t die from these wounds, then she won’t last more than a few months with whoever buys her,” another voice says.

“I heard they coated the bullets in Hydra blood. This bitch is going to be out for a while.”

Wait a minute. I struggle to open my eyes. Bright overhead lights blind me. Where the hell am I? It’s definitely not a car and I’m not dreaming. Two men are pushing me on a stretcher. Did that guy say someone was going to buy me?

“She’s a much better investment than the last auction. Did you hear some elite asshat paid six million to be one of the shooters at the challenge?”

My eyes flutter shut as my stomach rolls. I try to get my bearings. I don’t know where I am and I don’t know who these two idiots are, so what do I remember? The challenge. That stupid Funhouse. People who apparently bid for the pleasure of shooting at us. The ho-bag Jade with the freaking gun. Atlas jumping in front of a bullet for me. Why? And where is he?

Admittedly, he could be right behind me, and I’d have no idea, but I don’t sense him nearby.

We must’ve both passed out back at the Funhouse. Those black streaks had been creeping down my arm from the bullet wound on my upper chest. I can’t lift my head to see if they’re still there because it’s too heavy, but I know the bullet is still embedded in my muscle. I feel it lodged in there. More concerning is that the wound in my stomach from the rebar hasn’t closed yet. That should be healing by now.

The man at my feet slams open a set of swinging doors. I’m wheeled into a room that’s somehow even brighter than the hallway.

“All right Doc she’s all yours,” the man at my head says as he gives the stretcher a hard push. I hurtle through the room until the metal railing at my feet hits the wall, jostling my body. A spike of pain makes my injuries throb. Jackasses.

“Please leave before you ruin any more furniture.” Those words belong to a man with an uptight British accent.

Once the stretcher stops moving, I crack my eyes open. Just enough to see the backs of the two men who brought me here walking away. The owner of the snooty voice is reading a piece of paper and not paying any attention to me. He can’t be more than five foot three and I would guess that I weigh more than he does. He’s seventy at the youngest, but he still has a full head of white hair. It sticks up like he rolled out of bed and didn’t bother to look in a mirror.

A quick scan around the room, and I realize I’m in some sort of medical bay. It’s not a large space. There’s barely room for the gurney I’m lying on, an orange plastic chair in the corner, a counter with a small sink, and a set of shiny white cabinets.

I contemplate pretending that I’m still passed out when the doctor sets down his paper and comes to stand at my side.

“Ah, you’re awake. Too bad for you. This would’ve been a lot better if you’d just stayed asleep.” His face is oddly smooth, like he doesn’t have wrinkles because he avoids using facial expressions.

“What are you going to do?” My mouth is dry. My words are little more than a rasp.

This guy is throwing off some unbalanced vibes. I don’t get the sense that he wants to touch me while I’m asleep. At least not in a sexual way. Now, doing medical experiments on me while I’m passed out, that wouldn’t surprise me.

“We have to get you healed up. You’ve got another date after this.” He chuckles as he gathers up tools on a tray, but his face doesn’t form a smile.

“A date?”

The man laughs again and holds up a strip of leather. “Do you want to bite down on this while I get the bullet out?”

I blink up at him, my head still fuzzy. Is he going to take the bullet out without any kind of painkillers? That’s just great.

He shakes the strap in his hand, holding it closer to my face. There are a lot of teeth marks in the leather.

“No thanks.”

The doctor shrugs and tosses the leather back on his tray. “Try not to scream too loudly. We wouldn’t want to upset anybody.”

Who would I upset? Where are we? There aren’t any windows in this room. The ceilings are low, making me think we’re in a basement. Are there other “patients” down here?

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