17. Walt
SEVENTEEN
Walt
The beep of the heart monitor is incessant, a constant reminder that I’m still here, tethered to this damn bed. The soft glow of the overhead lights feels harsher by the second, and I shift against the pillows, trying to find a position that doesn’t make me feel like a caged animal.
My teammates take turns visiting me. Today, Ethan and Blake stand watch over me. Standing watch means making sure I don’t try and get out of bed. Doc Summers was very insistent about that.
“I’m fine,” I growl, my patience running thin. “It’s not like I’m going to keel over the second I stand up.”
“You’re not going anywhere.” Ethan leans against the wall with his arms crossed and raises a skeptical brow. “At least, not until Doc Summers says so.”
“I’m healing. She said as much.” I scowl, glaring at him from the bed. “I’ve been stuck here for days. I need to move.”
“You need to heal,” Blake retorts, his voice even though there’s a warning edge. “Sitting still is part of healing.”
“I’m not a damn invalid.” I shove at the blanket draped over me, irritation bubbling under my skin. “I can walk to the door without dropping dead.”
“You couldn’t even sit up yesterday without passing out,” Ethan reminds me, his tone dripping with calm condescension.
“That was yesterday,” I snap. “Today’s a new day. I’m stronger.”
“Stronger, huh?” Blake steps closer, peering at me as if daring me to prove it. “You sure about that?”
I clench my jaw, my fists tightening against the bed. “Damn right, I’m sure.”
Before I can launch into another tirade, the door creaks open. Doc Summers steps in, a tablet in one hand and a stethoscope draped around her neck. Her sharp gaze sweeps over the room before landing squarely on me.
“Those monitors,” she begins, her voice steady but laced with authority, “say otherwise.” She gestures toward the machines, blinking and beeping at my side, one brow arched as she approaches.
“The monitors are exaggerating. I feel fine.” I huff, sinking back into the pillows.
“Yeah? And I’m sure the monitors just decided to lie about your heart rate when you threw that tantrum just minutes ago.” She smirks faintly, setting the tablet down on a nearby counter.
“That wasn’t a tantrum,” I mutter, heat rising to my face. “That was frustration. There’s a difference.”
“Frustration or not, let’s see how ‘fine’ you really are.” Doc Summers ignores the comment, pulling the stethoscope from around her neck and slipping it into her ears. “Sit up.”
I do as I’m told, though not without a grunt of pain. My muscles protest, a dull ache spreading through my torso as I shift upward. Doc places the cold metal of the stethoscope against my chest, her expression unreadable as she listens.
“You’re improving,” she finally says, pulling back and jotting something onto her tablet. “But not enough to go running laps around the building.”
“I’m not asking for laps,” I counter. “I’m asking for a little freedom. Let me get out of this bed, at least for a few minutes.”
“Freedom?” Ethan snorts from the corner. “You’ll probably fall flat on your face two steps in.”
“I won’t.” I glare at him, then look back at Doc Summers. “I just need to move. Something. Anything.”
Doc Summers sighs, crossing her arms as she studies me. “How about this? You stay put for another day. If your vitals look stable tomorrow, I’ll let you sit in a chair instead of the bed. Deal?”
“A chair?” I grimace. “I was thinking more along the lines of a walk.”
“You’re thinking like an idiot,” Blake mutters under his breath.
“Small steps, Walt. You don’t go from near-death to marathons overnight. Push too hard, and you’ll end up back at square one—or worse.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, torn between the need to get out of this bed and the sense in her words. Finally, I let out a resigned breath. “Fine. Tomorrow. But if I can stand, I’m walking.”
Doc Summers smirks, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “We’ll see.” She pats my arm lightly before turning to Ethan. “Keep him in line, will you? No theatrics.”
Ethan chuckles, his arms still crossed. “Oh, don’t worry, Doc. I’m not letting him out of my sight.”
“Babysitters. The whole damn lot of you.” As the door closes behind her, I flop back against the pillows, muttering. “I’m fine.”
The lie comes automatically as I struggle to sit straighter. Fire rips through my chest, but I keep my face neutral. I won’t give them another excuse to keep me here one second longer than necessary.
“I know you want to find her. We all do.” Ethan’s expression softens slightly. “But you can’t help Malia if you collapse from pushing too hard, too fast.”
“Has Mitzy made any progress with the drive?”
His hesitation tells me everything. “The casing was too damaged. Whatever Malikai tried to give you… The data’s corrupted beyond recovery.”
The words hit hard. Three days wasted, and our only lead is worthless. My hands clench in the sheets as monitors register my spike in heart rate.
“Dammit.” The curse slips out as I slam my fist against the bed rail. Sharp pain lances through my chest, but I barely notice. “That drive was our only lead.”
“Not necessarily.” Blake kicks off from the wall and sits at the foot of my bed. “Mitzy’s team is analyzing Malikai’s research history. Three other quantum physicists have disappeared in the past month. All working on similar projects.”
“Similar, how?” I force myself to focus past the fog of pain and medication.
“Quantum tunneling effects in fusion containment.” Blake glances at the monitor above my head. It’s alarming with the spike in my heart rate. “Malikai made some kind of breakthrough three months ago. Something that interested the wrong people.”
“Has anyone claimed responsibility?” The question comes out rougher than intended. “Made demands?”
“Not yet.” Ethan doesn’t mince words. “But the pattern matches other disappearances. The targeting, the professional extraction teams?—”
“The use of family as leverage.” The words taste bitter in my mouth.
“Exactly,” Blake adds. “Working theory is it might be connected to the Third Sentinel.”
That catches my attention. “That’s what the doc and Forest thought. The nuclear materials dealer?”
“He’s evolved his game. Instead of stealing deuterium from research facilities, he’s collecting the minds that can weaponize it.” Ethan shoves his hands into his pockets. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but it is what it is.”
“If Mitzy’s right about Malikai’s breakthrough…” The thought sends fresh fire through my veins. “How long before they decide she’s outlived her usefulness?”
“Walt.” Ethan’s voice carries warning as the monitors register another spike. “Your body can’t handle this level of stress right now. You need to?—”
“What I need is to get out of this damn bed.” I start pulling at the IV in my arm, but Ethan’s hand clamps down on my wrist.
“Touch that IV again, and I’ll have Forest sit on you.” The threat carries weight—we both know the massive man would do it. “The team’s working ‘round the clock. You’re not in this alone. We’re all looking for her.”
But they don’t love her.
They don’t wake up reaching for her.
They don’t see her face every time they close their eyes.
They don’t remember how she felt pressed against that wall, trembling with need as she confessed she was saving herself for me.