“Who is this?” I repeat.
“I’m glad he found you. Tell him my family and I said thank you.” The voice is kind and warm, but before I can ask any more questions, the line is dead.
My best guess is that the second call must have been from one of the O’Neills, and while the calls didn’t make much sense to me, they confirm what I’ve suspected all along: there is more good in Luka than he wants anyone to know.
When I finally grow weary of pacing, I collapse into a chair, and I’m sitting down for no more than ten minutes when Dr. Cruse finally opens the door and steps into the room. I bolt to my feet and sprint to her so quickly she holds her hands out to keep me back.
“He has regained consciousness,” she says. “He is in a lot of pain and—”
“Is he okay?” I ask, interrupting her. “Is he going
