Alana sat in front of the television, her patient asleep. Slade opened the door for the three rugged men who filed into the room. He closed it behind them, glancing at Alana, who looked away from the screen to stare at them. Quickly, he made introductions and Alana greeted them before turning her attention back to the television. “Is she okay?” Ryden asked quietly, leaning his shoulders against the wall. “No.” “What exactly have you gotten yourself into, Slade?” Sarver sat down at the table. “Who’s the guy in the bed?” “Hell if I know,” Slade answered. He cast another glance at Alana, who looked ready to break. Not the woman who’d force-fed him antibiotics and managed to stick him with a needle. “She won’t talk to me.” “How about you tell us what you do know.” Ryden took a seat across from Sarver. Mercer remained standing in front of the door, silent and watchful. He turned his back and spoke quietly so Alana wouldn’t overhear. He told them about his capture, escape, and how he ended up in her camp.
