ALLE
Darius's surgery goes so f*****g smoothly it's almost suspicious.
I'm talking textbook perfect. The kind of operation that medical students will probably study in journals someday, assuming I survive long enough to publish it. Patterson and Okafor move like we've been working together for years instead of days, anticipating what I need before I even ask for it.
The tumor comes out in one piece—this grotesque mass of crystallized wolfsbane toxins that's been slowly killing Darius for god knows how long. It's the size of my fist and looks like something that should be in a horror movie, not a person's abdomen.
"Holy s**t," Patterson breathes when I finally extract it. "That's... wow."
"Yeah." I drop it into the specimen container, already mentally cataloging everything I want to te
