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“I said get the fuck up.” The soldier in the gas mask presses the pistol hard against my head.

I hold up my hands. “Okay. I am.” Still coughing, I force myself to my feet.

He grabs my arm and yanks me around, then slams me into the wall so hard I see stars. “Fucking bitch.”

Warmth leaks down my cheek.

He presses the gun to the back of my head. “This is a red zone for civilians. I’m allowed to shoot you on sight just for being in here.”

“I’m—”

“I didn’t say you could fucking talk.” He slams the muzzle against the top of my skull.

I scream, but it’s cut off by another coughing fit. Pressing my forehead against the brick, I can’t get my breath. I can’t see.

I’m going to die right here, right now. Killed by the people who are supposed to be protecting me.

The pressure of the muzzle disappears. I try again to explain. “I’m Dr.—”

“I thought you told me to call you Georgia.” Valen’s bored drawl cuts through my words.

I whirl. There’s no sign of the soldier, though I can’t see particularly well or far. “What?—”

He takes my arm and pulls me from the wall. I cough and shudder, my body rebelling against whatever is in the gas. With an easy movement, he lifts me and drapes me over his shoulder.

I cough and cough, my lungs on fire as he moves through the smoke, hefting me in a fireman’s carry as if I weigh nothing. I can’t breathe. He moves steadily, his gait quick, his steps light. The gas seems to clear a little, the sun shining through the haze and stinging my eyes.

“Georgia!” someone yells.

“Open it,” Valen grates, and then we’re inside. At the hotel.

He lays me on one of the sofas. I swipe at my eyes, but it only makes them burn more.

“Fuck, they got caught up in the shit.” Gage’s voice.

“Evie!” I croak.

“She’s here!” Gretchen’s voice seems far away. “She made it. Don’t worry.”

“Oh, god, her face! What is it? Tear gas? Mustard?” Aang’s horrified voice comes from behind me.

“It’s a mix. We only use?—”

“How do we help her?” Valen sounds just shy of murder, his voice like a hammer on coffin nails. But he isn’t coughing. The gas doesn’t seem to affect him at all.

“We have to get her into a cold shower.” Gage grabs my shoulder. “Come on?—”

“Don’t fucking touch her,” Valen snarls.

I’m lifted again, this time cradled in Valen’s arms as he rushes to the elevator and then up to my room. I’m crying. Everything hurts. It’s not just inside anymore, not just Candice’s fear eating me up, it’s the gas, the poison, whatever the hell was in that smoke. I’m on fire everywhere. Burning, turning orange, brown, then charred black.

When the first jet of cold water hits me, I yelp and try to escape.

“Don’t move.” Valen’s hands grip my shoulders, and I realize we’re both in the shower fully dressed. Turning me gently, he angles my face up toward the spray.

I wince, but after only a few moments, I feel the slightest bit of relief.

“Blink. You need to clear it from your eyes.” He swipes at my face, wiping off the tears, the water, even the snot that’s constantly running from my nose. “Keep blinking.” He runs his hand over my hair, wetting it. “There’s blood.”