THE SEQUEL TO 'LUNA OF ROGUES.'
Last Haven is scattered to the wind. It has been nineteen years since the castle burned - nineteen years of bitter warfare - and rogues are a dying breed. Defeat is starting to look inevitable.
Every rogue has a choic...
We've got a very gorgeous, very depressing drawing of Rhodri by LittleLoneWriterGirl, just in case you're in need of some 'feels.' Praise her or curse her. Your call.
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"This is more likely to kill him than save him," Seth warned me. "I'm going to give him an overdose. They'll take him out to the border, and the rest ... that's on you. If he survives the morphine and the existing injuries — and I seriously doubt that he will, you'll need to give him naloxone. And lots of it."
"I— What? How's that going to—"
"Are you done yet?" Micah demanded. "Jab him and get out. I want to lock up and go to breakfast."
"I'm doing the antibiotics now," Seth said, giving me a meaningful look. He was still struggling to find a vein, and that meant I had time to change my mind, if I wanted. "It'll only take a minute."
I closed my eyes, trying to think it over. I didn't understand Seth's plan, and that felt dangerous, but it was still better than my plan, which was non-existent. And yes, maybe I'd be gambling with Rhodri's life, but if anyone could survive this, it would be him.
So I stayed quiet, and I let Seth push a syringe full of morphine into Rhodri's arm. Micah had already lost interest in us again — distracted by a notification which made him grin from ear to ear.
It took a few minutes for the drug to work. At first, I didn't understand. I saw Rhodri's chest stop moving and I reached for him, terrified that he'd died right before my eyes. Seth caught my hand and shook his head ever so slightly.
"It's okay," he whispered. " It's the opioid. He'll have to survive like this for a little while."
I reckoned I understood now. His heart was beating so faintly and slowly that I couldn't even hear it, close as I was. And his breathing was swallow — I had to put my hand on his chest to know it was moving at all. It was convincing, I'd admit, but I didn't think it was going to work.
"Shit," Seth said loudly and convincingly. "Eva, I'll need the EpiPen. Quickly, please."
I didn't have to make a show of fumbling for it. I had no idea where it was. This was still my first week on the job. While I dug it out, Micah paced towards us, his phone forgotten. He reached the bars and gripped them so that his knuckles turned white. "What's wrong with him?"
"He's reacting to the antibiotics I gave him."
Micah swore under his breath and scrubbed at the back of his neck. If he'd had known the first thing about anaphylactic shock, it wouldn't have worked, but he was a dumbass and Seth had been counting on that. "Well ... do something."
Seth got out his stethoscope. He was quite the actor — the next few minutes were spent checking vitals, periodically cursing and then administering 'drugs' which were actually just copious amounts of saline. He got more and more frantic as time went on, until he finally set the stethoscope aside and looked up at Micah gravely.
