Page 32 of Rangers Last Promise

“They threw one last week,” Trigger says.

“That was different.”

“How?”

“It was a stool.”

Despite the danger outside, the exchange pulls me back fifteen years.

Wolf and Trigger could argue in the middle of incoming fire. Grant usually made it worse until I threatened to sedate all three of them.

For one painful second, I expect to hear his voice joining theirs.

It never comes.

I clean the cut on Wolf’s arm and confirm it doesn’t need stitches.

Then I turn toward Mara.

“Your turn.”

“No.”

“Let me see your head.”

“It’s fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“So is half the room.”

“You were beneath a window when it shattered.”

“I didn’t lose consciousness. I’m not dizzy, nauseated, or confused. My pupils are equal, and the cut is shallow.”

She recites the symptoms as though she has rehearsed them.

“Grant taught you that.”

Her expression changes.

“He taught me a lot of things.”

I put a clean gauze pad on the table between us.

“Then he also taught you that people with head injuries aren’t always reliable judges of their condition.”

“I don’t have a head injury.”

“Prove it.”

For a moment, I think she’ll refuse simply because the request came from me.

Then she steps closer.

“Make it quick.”

I position her beneath the emergency light. The glow is weak, but it’s enough. I tilt her chin up and examine her pupils.