“Separate them,” Ruben barks like he doesn’t know us. “Full gurney restraint.” I turn to give Scythe a look to see if he’s seen the wolf our father used to call the ‘Monster Wrangler’, but my half-brother is staring drolly ahead at the wall. He often does that, stares into the distance, thinking dark thoughts. He’s probably thinking about how he’s going to kill me. Or maybe he’s thinking about Aurelia and her long fluttery eyelashes.
