Victor's POV
Pain. That's all I feel right now. Burning, throbbing pain. Like someone set my insides on fire and then decided to stab me a few dozen times for good measure.
I open my eyes to dim blue light. A basement? No, some kind of makeshift medical room. The ceiling blurs, then sharpens. Medical equipment beeps softly nearby. I'm alive. Somehow.
My hand moves to my side where the first bullet hit. Bandaged. Tight. Professional work. The second wound in my shoulder screams when I try to move my arm.
"Well, this is just perfect," I mutter to the empty room.
The warehouse. The ambush. It all comes back in flashes. Michael's face when he saw me—shock, disbelief, betrayal. Five years since I "died." Five years of working in shadows to bring down the people who stole our lives.
A tab
