"Rehab," I croaked, dabbing my lips on the sleeve of my shirt. Zed knew what I meant and nodded. "Yep." I drew a long breath, letting it swell my lungs, and winced at the press on my ribs. "They put you through some kind of crash course in how to be a snake in the grass or something?" My words dripped with bitterness, but Zed didn't shy away from it. "Three months isn't long enough for standard FBI training."
