THE MACHINES BEEPED loudly and constantly inside the cell. Peter shifted his feet, coming to the realization that he hadn't had a restful sleep in almost two days. He should have felt exhausted, especially after the firefight not seven hours earlier. Instead, Peter had no trouble keeping his eyes open. The on-base holding cells were quiet but for the machines keeping Royce Collins alive.
A set of steel bars separated Peter and his former partner, who was strapped to the only cot in the cell, wearing nothing but a loose shift and an oxygen mask. When Norse had asked for a volunteer to watch over the traitor after he was discharged from surgery, Peter had been more than eager to offer his services.
Royce had yet to wake, more due to the drugs in his system than the trauma he'd experienced
