Destruction.
Restraints.
Cuts.
Blood.
Pain.
All of it hits me in the chest at once, a sputtering cough making me bend forward. Sickness spews from me, but the release doesn't give me a single answer to the millions of questions swarming in my head.
"Fucking quit," a woman growls.
She looks familiar, but my brain refuses to pinpoint where I might know her from.
My head dips, the weight of it too much for my neck muscles to control.
"Get a second dose of Narcan ready," she growls.
Narcan.
I've been drugged.
The day floods back.
Bobby and his discovery.
The options he gave me.
The pain that ensued when I didn't give him an answer.
The three goons.
The pain.
The torture.
The pain.
The drugs when I begged for death.
The pain leaving.
Flying.
Angel wings.
"What did they give me?" I manage.
"We don't know," she says. "The Narcan seems to be working, so opioids. Probably a mix of heroin and fentanyl from the information we have."
"Zeus?" I manage, trying to choke back the second wave of nausea.
"I'm right here."
The sight of him makes a sob rack my body. I couldn't care less how many badass commandos are in this fucking room. I was certain he was dead.
I'm not too keen on the look of concern on his face, but at least he's around to give it to me.