Page 28 of Rogue Mission

“Navy, both of us,” Beast replies with a grunt, facing the man. “You?”

“Same.” He glances at the nearby nurses’ station—it’s still vacant. “Ten years. I can spot Team guys from a mile away.”

“Good.” My tone is low and lethal.

I push the door open an inch. “I need to get to my girl. She just died, and my teammate and I resuscitated her.”

A knowing look crosses the guard’s face.

He’s seen death. Whatever he did before, and what he does now, has settled in his bones too. Blowing out a slow breath, he gives us the nod.

Yes!

“Let him go in,” he motions to me. “Frog man, you can come with me to get a couple new badges over there at the nurses’ station.”

Luck. Again.

Thank you.

I push open the door. Antiseptic and the scent of laundered cotton float out and I hesitate.

What if?

I shake my head.She’s fine. She’s going to be fine.

But the sight inside the room punches me in the chest.

Wires, lines, harsh fluorescent lights remind a man of how serious this is. A bed sits in the middle of the twelve-by-twelve space. A single window with a closed blind.

In the midst of it all, Rosalie’s small form is on the bed, covered with a pale blue blanket.

Wind rushes out of me. Fear claws up my spine.

She’s too still.

I can’t move, a lump the size of a tank expands in my throat. I’m so focused, searching for signs of life, I don’t even realize a nurse is working on a computer in the corner.

A sound makes me flick my eyes around the room as all my senses tangle.

She says, “Ahhh, there you are. I’d bet a thousand dollars you’re Justice the Hero. She’s been asking for you.”

“Really?” I’m hoarse. And weak.

“We can wake her up.”

“No,” I whisper fiercely, choking out, “She needs to rest.”

Standing, the nurse moves to the bed. “Actually, I need to check one more vital, then I’ll leave you two alone.”

“Is she…?”

Offering me an empathetic look, she nods. “Everything looks perfect. Very lucky woman.”

I fall into the chair, because I suddenly weigh a thousand pounds.

She’s safe.

A possessive current tightens my spine, chased by a dumpster full of regret.