The gas was heavy. A strange thing for gas to be, but each breath filled Kaydia’s lungs with lead and dread. She’d be lighter when she awoke, after they cut out the piece that Quentin left in her.
They were in bed, her husband’s arms wrapped around her. She had been crying, she knew. Crying, and bleeding. Crying because of the bleeding, because of what it meant they had lost. He had been assuri...