Chapter 14
Max did his job, and eventually Mark was transferred to a small room down the corridor from the infirmary, a room that had an actual bed rather than a stretcher. He was still unconscious though, and the only twenty-four hour period that had been worse was the one last fall, waiting for Mother to regain consciousness.
I was still exhausted, but the events of the night kept repeating themselves behind my eyelids every time I closed them, and I couldn’t fall asleep, so I paced the room, eleven feet to the far wall, eleven feet back to the door.
I had reached the wall for the eighty-fifth time when the door opened. I wheeled around, my gun drawn, but it was de Becque.
His expression sardonic, he raised his hands. “Don’t shoot.”
I growled and put my gun away. “What do you want?”
