Page 90 of Hollow State

Darwin curled his fingers around his weapon.

“All that intelligence,” Finch said, “and you still die because you couldn’t understand power.”

“I understand it better than you." Darwin shifted his gaze to the right for a split second. “Especially when my friend is pointing a weapon at your head.”

Finch snapped his head. "No one's there."

Darwin raised his gun. Bang!

The shot hit Finch in the chest.

He staggered back as he turned his head, eyes going wide.

"You shot me." Finch dropped his weapon and fell to his knees.

Darwin held his weapon steady, staring at Finch, ready to fire again if necessary. Holding his breath, he counted. He got to three when Finch's body went slack, and he fell forward, faceplanting on the tile.

"That was a ballsy move." Coulter came around the corner and knelt beside him a second later. “I didn’t have a weapon on him. Yet.”

Darwin coughed, expecting to feel pain, but there was nothing.

“Nice shot, man." Gideon came into view. "I tapped into the system, and Zadie says we're all clear and that the cavalry is on the way."

“Good to know.” Coulter pressed both hands over Darwin’s. “We're gonna need an ambulance.”

Darwin turned his head, trying to find Gideon. “We need one for Wynn. I want her taken to Vancouver General, and I want Liam to treat her.”

“I'll make sure that message gets relayed,” Gideon said.

“Thank you.” Darwin lowered his gaze. "I've lost too much blood. The microdose is useless to me now."

Coulter leaned closer. “We've got an ambulance coming for you, too.”

Darwin opened his mouth, but he wasn't sure anything came out. Or if it did, he couldn’t hear it.

Suddenly, the world went black.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Wynn despised wheelchairs. She wasn't sure the wheelchairs were any more comfortable than the pathetic beige wooden chairs the rest of the team used while they all waited to find out how Darwin's surgery went.

However, the wheelchair made sense. It had a purpose. She’d pushed wounded soldiers, surgical patients, stubborn teammates, and once a drunk Marine who’d insisted he could walk just fine while bleeding through his pants into a mobility aid. She understood the usefulness.

She still hated sitting in them.

The IV pole beside her made it worse.

A clear bag of fluids hung from the hook, the line disappearing beneath the tape on the back of her hand. Every time she shifted, the pole gave a soft metallic rattle, a tiny hospital sound that seemed determined to carve itself into the inside of her skull.

A reminder of everything they'd been through and the reality that it might not be over yet.

She stared at the surgical doors across the waiting area and tried not to count how long Liam, who’d opted to scrub in on the surgery, had been gone.

The waiting area outside the surgical center had too much beige. Beige walls. Beige chairs. Beige carpet with little blue and gray lines meant to make the room less depressing, which only made it look as though someone had tried to mask anxiety with office decor.

Gus stood near the windows, arms folded, gaze fixated on something outside. Coulter sat two chairs away from Wynn, elbows on his knees, hands clasped so tight his knuckles had gone pale. Neve stood behind him with one hand on his shoulder. Scout sat near the corner with her back against the wall and her phone in both hands. Gideon and Zadie occupied the row across from Wynn, close enough that their knees touched.

Scout’s phone dinged.