Bonus Chapter 18B Korr #2
“She dissociated from the pain,” I continue, trying to stay calm, trying to make him understand the situation. It’s not working—he’s burning with rage, fists shaking. “She’s fine. She’ll snap out of it in a couple of hours.”
“From the pain?” he barks a laugh, cold and cruel. “You really think it was pain that did that to her?
“She has taken more pain than any woman, any person, should. And she does it without flinching. So don’t fucking lie to me! What did you do? I asked around. She walked all the way to you and only dissociated after talking with you.” He spits the words like acid.
He’s right—she does take pain better than anyone should be able to.
I’ve seen her get up after hitting the ground harder than any of the other recruits, brushing off bruises like they were nothing.
I’ve watched her push through things that would make most people scream or quit.
But today was a hell of a lot worse than her smaller injuries in class.
“Matt, I told you,” I say, my voice lowering, trying to keep it steady. “I didn’t do anything to her. She dissociated from the pain, it's a natural response. It's not the first time it's happened to a recruit, and it won’t be the last.”
He stares at me, eyes cold and filled with accusation, but he stops struggling in my grip. “You don’t get it, do you?” his voice cracks with frustration. “She didn’t dissociate from pain, Korr. She dissociated from you. From whatever you said to her.”
His words hit even harder than his punch.
“What the hell are you talking about?” I growl, trying to keep control, despite the uncertainty creeping into my chest. Annalise didn’t say anything other than she was fine and didn’t need to tap.
Then, I remember the way she flinched when I yelled about her ribs.
“Are you telling me that I did this to her?” I ask, the words coming out softer now, the anger fading, replaced by a guilt roiling so hard I could puke.
His voice drops low, pained. “You really don’t get it—whatever you said made her feel like she had to escape. And knowing all of the things she has had to escape from, I want to kill you just for putting her back in that hell.”
He yanks his arm free from my grip with a burst of force, but this time, I don’t stop him. I let him go, watching him carefully.
“He tried to break her, and she barely survived. Stay the fuck away from her—I won’t let you try to break her too.” He turns on his heel and walks toward the door. His eyes are softer now, regretful, but there’s still something protective in them. Something I’m sure I don’t understand the depth of.
When the door slams behind him, I let out a long breath.
I should listen to Matt and stay away from her—but I can’t—not without knowing she is okay. And waiting until next week is out of the question.
I walk behind the A&B barracks and slide into the side door of the infirmary.
“Captain Korr!” Payton, one of the healers on staff here at Scion, calls out the moment she spots me.
“Is there anything I can help you with?” She asks in a tone that says, like normal, she’s not solely talking about work.
Payton is beautiful, with long legs, a lithe frame, and lips made for sin. She’s never lacked for attention, never had to look far for a man to try his luck, but I’ve never been one of them.
“Hi Payton, I’m just here to check on a recruit.”
“Oh, that's right. I heard someone came in from your class today,” she says. "It’s so admirable that you come to check on your injured students in person.”
I don’t. Not once. The thought’s never even crossed my mind until today.
Most of the recruits that have come through Scion since I’ve been here have had superiority complexes that rival a dragon's.
They walk in with their heads held high and their Legacy status even higher.
The arrogance gets passed down generation to generation, exactly how their admission to a place that used to be reserved for the most skilled fighters.
“Yeah, accident in the sparring ring.”
Not wanting to barge into another patient's space accidentally, I ask, “Can you tell me which treatment bay she’s in? Name is Annalise Corvin.”
I never really know what to call the “rooms” in the infirmary. They aren’t actual rooms, just a big open room separated by curtains to give a measly amount of privacy. But everyone can still hear their neighbor's diagnosis, their screams, and sometimes even their death.
“Of course. My shift started a few minutes ago, so let me check our system.”
She steps past me toward the intake desk, then stops. Her gaze lingers on my face, where I am sure a bruise is forming courtesy of Matt.
Her voice softens. “You look like you need a healer.”
Before I can step back, her thumb brushes along my jaw—light, deliberate, and gone too quickly to call her on it.
Getting to the desk, she taps a few keys, the light from the monitor flickering across her face. “Looks like she’s in triage six.”
I thank her and turn to walk that way.
The curtain around triage Six is half open, and inside, the bed’s empty.
The blankets are thrown back, sheets tangled like someone left in a hurry, and the monitor beside the bed that should be tracking her vitals has been unplugged from the wall.
She was here. Recently.
“Payton,” I call quietly.
She comes up beside me, brow furrowing when she sees the empty bed. “That’s strange. She shouldn’t be gone yet.”
“Maybe she was discharged and they forgot to mark it at the end of their shift?”
She shakes her head and starts tapping at the tablet in her hand. “No, there’s nothing here. She didn’t check out, didn’t get clearance.”
“So, she just—walked out?”
Payton looks up, concern replacing confusion. “That shouldn’t be possible. She was given a tonic with a sedative in it to speed up her recovery.”
I stare at the rumpled sheets again. I want to be upset that she left before she was fully healed, but I’m just so damn relieved that she’s come back to herself.
For the first time since Matt came into the arena, the tightness in my chest eases a little.