Actually, seven.
River was gone too.
Locke hadn’t moved. Orla had, but she was dead asleep, so I slid from the bed with undue care.
On any normal day or night, Locke would’ve heard me anyway. Caught my hand and tugged me back for a kiss or a grumble that I was leaving, but he didn’t so much as twitch, and I missed him.
He’s back. He’s safe.
But how close we’d come to losing him was a solid pit in my stomach as I crept away.
I came downstairs as Folk appeared at the bottom. “Viktor’s awake.”
“For real?”
“I think so. He’s sitting up and talking. Mainly to the dog, but it’s something.”
Tired humour warmed Folk’s face.
I squeezed his arm and made to pass him, but he tugged me back.
“Do you have any idea who that bloke was that Rubi hustled back here to help us?”
“Doctor Marc? He’s from the hospital.”
“He’sregiment. Air service.SAS,” Folk emphasised when I didn’t catch on. “You strong-arm him, you lose the arm.”
“He fucking said as much.”
“Bet he did.”
“Friend of yours?”
“Acquaintance. He retired before I ever got to work with him in the field, but he’s from a legendary D-squadron crew, and some things never grow old enough not to matter. You hear what I’m saying?”
“Easy, brother.” I pulled Folk into a fraternal embrace. “It was a one-off, and he was okay with it.”
Pacified, Folk hugged me back, then let me go.
I crossed the yard to the bunkhouse and, even though it was the last place I wanted to be, slipped inside.
Viktor was on the edge of the bed, an IV still snaking into his arm, and his forehead pressed to Lida’s.
It seemed like a deep conversation I didn’t want to interrupt, but he heard me coming and straightened up, discomfort lining his face. “Hello.”
“Evening.” I offered him a smoke.
He waved them away. “I think I would die.”
“You almost did.”
Viktor accepted that with a wry half-smile and leaned back on the bed, everything about him heavy with fatigue. “I owe a lot to Locke.”
We all did, one way or another, and I didn’t want to get into the details of the last thirty-six hours again. But there was some shit I needed to know. “Who took you?”
“Gianni Sambini’s men.”
“When?”