DUNCAN
The door opened, and I automatically assumed it was the doctor. So, I didn't lift my eyes from June, lying on the bed, receiving a transfusion of my blood through the IV tubes into her veins after the two-hour surgery to remove the bullet from her waist.
I held my breath, awaiting news about her condition.
"How is she?" A woman's voice asked instead, and because they were likely talking to me, I glanced in their direction.
By the door stands a woman, with a sophisticated appearance, somehow familiar, but I couldn't quite put a finger on where I knew her face. Her presence hinted at a connection from the past, but the details remained elusive in my head, teasing me with a sense of importance that I couldn't fully grasp.
"She will live," I replied, and she nodded.
"Yes, she will
