He probably looked like he felt—bloodied, destroyed, soulless. Maybe someone had tried to stop him. It seemed, however, that he’d had a hole right to Ahmed’s cell.

He could still hear the echo of the door, slamming against the wall, the roar of his own voice.

And then, Ahmed’s screams.

Piercing, burrowing through him, shredding him—

“C’mon, Colt. Don’t give up on us!”

His chest exploded with bright light and pain—

“C’mon!”

He opened his eyes.

Lights. A doc, garbed, masked, standing over him with hands up. Another holding paddles.

What?

He gasped, and beside him, a monitor beeped.

“He’s back,” the doctor said and handed off the paddles.

Oh wow—he’d been shocked. No wonder flames consumed his body. Oxygen poured through a mask over his mouth and as he blinked, he realized—

Hospital.

He bit back a shout even as he reached up to take off the oxygen mask.

A doctor grabbed his arm.

Then a voice. “Calm down, you’re okay.”

He knew that voice. Searched for it.

Dodge.

His brother stood back from the bed, his arms folded across his chest. He was wearing an expression that Colt hadn’t seen before.

Or maybe he had. Once. When he’d been in the hospital, so long ago, after their epic brawl.

When Dodge had re-sorted his insides.

He’d woken in the hospital. His father had been at his bedside, praying maybe, and in the reflection of the window, Colt had spotted Dodge at the door wearing exactly the same—worried? tormented?—expression.

“Please stop dying on us.” This from one of the doctors. Lucas Maguire.

“Sorry?” he said, his voice muffled.

Dodge sighed, roughed a hand across his mouth, looked away.

“If you’re trying to get away from us again, bro, this is not the way.” Ranger. He stood at the end of the bed, and now came up, put his hand on Colt’s leg.

“Why does this keep happening?” Dodge asked.

“We did a chest X-ray and echocardiogram. He’s got myopericarditis,” Lucas said, stepping away from him. “My guess is that after his event in Nigeria—”

“Event?” Ranger said. “They beat him within an inch of his life.”

“Yes. And probably damaged his heart. It’s not uncommon for the sac around your heart to become inflamed after a trauma like that, which probably accounts for some of the breathing issues he had, like the one on the glacier.”

Colt glanced at Dodge. He cocked a head at him. “Lucas was trying to save your life. We told him everything we could about your condition. It might have been easier if you’d been honest with us from the beginning.”

Honest about what? So he’d been a little winded . . .

“But that’s not the only problem. The pericarditis—or inflammation—caused a cardiac tamponade, which is fluid built up in the pericardium. Which led to his arrhythmia. And then cardiogenic shock.”