Chapter 126

GIDEON

Hospitals have a smell. A sterile, hollow smell that clings to your skin and eats at your nerves. I’d hated it before, but now? Now, it felt personal.

Because my wife—the fiercest, bravest, most infuriatingly stubborn woman I’ve ever known—was lying unconscious in one of these rooms, hooked up to tubes and monitors like her body had forgotten how to fight.

And all I could do was watch.