I woke up to the sound of beeping. Sharp, rhythmic. The kind that meant I was still alive. My eyelids felt like they had weights strapped to them, but I forced them open. White walls. Fluorescent lights. The faint scent of antiseptic in the air. Hospital.
I ached all over, as if I'd been run over by a freight train. My memories crashed in loudly and chaotically-the mission, Julian, Jasper, the bomb. My chest constricted as I struggled to sit up.
"Whoa, easy there."
A hand was planted on my shoulder, easing me back. My gaze latched on to Julian's face. He looked like he'd gone through a war-bruises flowering across his cheek, a cut above his eyebrow. But alive.
"You're awake," he said, exhaling in relief.
I swallowed. My throat felt like sandpaper. "Jasper?"
"Alive," Julian assured me, but his expression darkened. "Barely."
That sent a fresh wave of panic through me. "Where is he?"
