Chapter 275

Brett's Perspective You can get used to the smell of hospital antiseptic after a while. But I'd long since moved out of the private observation room. It was too quiet. Too much like a cage, even a comfortable one. I'd pestered the nurses until they moved Scarface and Luka into a larger shared room with me. The reason? "Group therapy for psychological recovery." Bullshit. I just didn't want to be alone. The gruesome scar on Scarface's jaw had healed considerably under the med-pod and pack salves, but the mark remained stark. He was a man of few words, mostly leaning against his pillows, staring out the window or cleaning a dagger he'd somehow acquired. Luka was younger, recovering his energy faster, always restless. He'd pace the room softly to stay loose or try to engage Scarface or me in conversation, his eyes always gleaming with restless light. We hung out together. That was the right term. It wasn't just about healing. It was mo