Henry stared through the glass at Shyla’s motionless body. Twenty-four hour had passed, and nobody had slept. There were ninjas crawling all over the hospital, but none of that concerned Henry. Anna stood to his left, and she placed her hand on his arm. “Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”
Henry nodded, not looking away from Shyla. “Dylan Thomas.”
Anna smiled slightly. The petite ninja had severe bruising on her face, but was in good spirits otherwise. She had successfully managed to keep Henry from sinking. “She’s fighting, Henry. Don’t ever take that away from her legacy. She will make it.”
Henry hugged the smaller ninja. She stiffened for a second, but put her hand on his back. This was family. Once, Henry wouldn’t have gotten close to her, but Anna trusted him. That was a rare thing for her.
They were in the ICU of the hospital, and Shyla had just come out of surgery. The bullet had pierced her right upper abdomen, missing her liver by no more than a quarter of an inch, and lodged somewhere near her left hipbone. It had left a path of destruction that had taken doctors hours to piece back together. She had been shot from above, when Emmett had been in the rising helicopter.
Doctors had repaired the damage, and the prognosis was good. The doctors were confident that she would wake soon. That didn’t make it any easier for Henry to see the usually lively Shyla so still.
Anthony appeared from the waiting room outside, and handed Henry a cup of hot coffee. He took it gratefully, and Anna took a step back from the pair. She headed back out to give Master Wong a progress report, and left Henry and Anthony alone.
Henry glanced over at Anthony in time to catch the tail end of a scowl. He took a sip of his coffee. “What’s the deal between you and Anna?”
Anthony shrugged, and then sighed and shut his eyes. “It’s nothing you need to worry about now. The main priority is keeping Shyla alive and safe.” Anthony pulled out a piece of paper, and handed it to Henry. “We’ve locked down the ICU section in the hospital. Only ninjas or certain FBI can get in. Even the doctor is one of Master Wong’s students.”
Henry nodded. “Thanks, Ant.”
Anthony grinned, and clapped Henry on the shoulder. “Look after your girl, Henry. We have the rest under control.”
The first thing Shyla was aware of was the scratchy blanket against her skin. She didn’t remember the blanket on her bed being this scratchy. And then there was the noise. Clearly Shyla wasn’t at home. She shifted, attempting to roll over, and pain – excruciating and blinding – shot through her from her stomach.
Memory flooded back at that moment, and Shyla’s eyes jerked open. The light above her was cutting against her retinas, and she squeezed her eyes shut. A hand pulled hers gently, and Shyla curled her fingers around the warmth. “Shyla, I know you’re awake.”
Shyla opened her eyes more slowly. She was now aware of the antiseptic smell that seemed to permeate everything. “H-Henry…”
Henry squeezed her hand gently. “You lost a lot of blood. The bullet missed everything vital, but hit a lot of muscle.”
Shyla nodded, and Henry held a glass of water to her lips. She sipped slowly, and rested her head on the pillow. “How’s Shaun? Did everybody make it okay?”
Henry smiled. “Shaun is healing. He had a mild concussion, but not much else. Anna has a bruised face, but doctors say it’s from the airbags of an SUV she stole. Everybody else made it out alive.”
Shyla shut her eyes. “I’m sorry, Henry.”
Henry bent closer. “It’s alright. We will discuss all of this when you get out of this joint.”
Shyla’s smile was small, but Henry had still seen it. He smiled back, and the two of them sat in silence as the hospital bustled around them.