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Jethro kept his eyes shut and his breathing steady, feigning sleep so he could gather as much information as possible. He was tied to a bed, but he wasn’t in his cell. The smells were different. Only a slight odor of fear, no feces and no stench of sweaty, unwashed males. Instead there was disinfectant and blood, but most of the latter was coming from him.
“It took three darts to bring him down. That’s not normal. Even a Grunt or Producer goes down with one,” said a male.
“How much sedative was in the dart, Miles?”
That was Hugh’s voice. What was he doing here? Jethro tensed but kept his mouth shut. Now, it was even more important to find out what was going on. He didn’t trust Hugh.
“Three ccs in each dart. One should’ve knocked him off his feet, but it didn’t seem to do any
