And she didn’t feel any pain, just slight discomfort in the form of a throbbing and nagging tightness coming from the gunshot wound. She knew she wasn’t on any narcotic, either. She felt clearheaded and amazingly well rested and she wasn’t the least bit nauseated.

In fact, she felt the exact opposite. She was ravenous, wanted to drive to the nearest In-N-Out Burger and order two of everything on the menu.

An electronic buzz filled the room, followed by the distinct sound of a latch clicking free. The door opened and Sebastian, dressed in dark-wash jeans with black driving loafers and a crisp white collared shirt, came in holding a paper cup of coffee with a lid and a brown paper bag stained with grease.

Seeing Frank die, shooting Anton, everything she had put into motion—all of it strangely evaporated like a puff of steam. All Ellie saw was the bag of food. She was seized by the crazy idea of pulling back the sheets, lurching from her bed, and tearing the bag from his hands.

Sebastian handed her the coffee. “I also brought you this,” he said, holding up the bag. His voice was stripped of emotion, his face haggard. “An assortment of croissants, scones, and muffins.”

“Thank you.”

He placed the bag on the nightstand, along with a couple of creamers and sugar packets he’d removed from his pocket. Ellie exchanged the coffee for the bag, opened it, and grabbed the first thing that caught her eye—a chocolate croissant. She took a large bite, resisting the urge to shove the entire thing in her mouth.

Sebastian stood beside the bed, his hands on his waist. “How are you feeling?”

Ellie finished chewing and swallowed. “Surprisingly good. I don’t know what drugs you put in my IV drip, but they’re working wonders.”

“It’s just saline.”

Ellie devoured the rest of the croissant in two big, unladylike bites, not feeling the least bit self-conscious. Sebastian’s presence didn’t bother her, either. She didn’t feel anxious or afraid, and she didn’t know why and she didn’t care. She didn’t know why Sebastian was being kind and gracious to her, and she didn’t care.

Actually, she did know why: she had saved his life. And he, in turn, had saved hers—not because of some moral obligation but because he needed something from her. Ellie had a good idea what it was.

Ellie held up the bag. “Want one?”

He shook his head, his eyes puffy from lack of sleep.

“You sure?” she asked, picking out another croissant. “The way I’m feeling right now, I’m inclined to eat everything you got in here.”

“Increased appetite is a normal side effect.”

“A normal side effect of what?”

“An infusion of carrier blood.”

Ellie stopped chewing.

“You were shot in the clavicle—a clean shot—but you lost a good amount of blood, so I gave you two liters,” Sebastian said. “It will help speed along the healing.”

The food in her stomach suddenly felt like it was going to come back up. “You gave me Pandora?”