FEW HOURS LATER
The room smelled faintly of medicine and fresh linen. The soft beeping of a monitor filled the quiet air. Lucy lay still, pale against the white sheets. A drip ran down into her arm, the clear liquid moving slowly. The doctor, an older man with sharp eyes and kind hands, checked her pulse and lifted her eyelids gently.
“She’s stable now,” the doctor said quietly. His voice was calm but firm. “The poison is leaving her system. She just needs rest. No more than a day or two, and she’ll be fine.”
Barry stood near the window, arms crossed, his face carved from stone. His dark suit made him seem even larger in the small room. He stared out at the night, the city lights far below.
“She saved your life,” the doctor added, glancing at Barry.
Barry didn’t move. “I didn’t ask he
