If Aaron Scott knew that Easther had not only woken up, but had even wandered through the hallways half-naked—spotted by none other than Master Alphonso Koza himself—he would have fainted on the spot. And when he came to, his first instinct would surely be to grab a scalpel and cut her open, just to study how she was even alive.
Aaron Scott could hardly trust his own eyes. By all logic, the girl should have been a corpse. The bullet had torn through her chest, pierced a lung, and shattered two ribs. It had come within mere centimetres of her heart. Pure, absurd luck had kept the jagged bone from puncturing it. Her left lung had been riddled with fragments of broken rib, and the surgery to remove them had been long, delicate, and nearly impossible. He had practically pieced her body back t
