She wanted to strangle Colt herself, if he survived the procedure.

“Major Austin will be doing a pericardiocentesis,” Lucas said. “It’s under a local anesthetic. They’ll insert a large bore catheter at an angle into the chest, guided by an ultrasound. An electrocardiogram, or ECG, will be recording, and if there are complications, we’ll move him into surgery and perform a pericardiectomy.”

“What is that, exactly?” Noemi asked.

Tae could have told her. It was dangerous. And meant that he’d never be cleared for spec op duty again.

And that thought only pressed a thumb into her guilt.

Even if Colt lived, she’d wrecked his life. His future.

Although, Tae’s mind traveled, for a moment, to his “We’ll see” statement.

Huh. But really, he was probably just saying that to keep her calm.

He’d never intended to walk away from his spec ops life, and she knew it, deep inside.

Even if he made it, he’d never forgive her. She might be ill.

“It involves removing the damaged pericardium,” Lucas said in answer to Noemi’s question.

“They’d have to crack his chest,” Tae said to Ham. She wondered if he was figuring it out. Colt, off his team.

“What is the mortality rate of a pericardiectomy?” Ham asked.

“Between five and fifteen percent,” Lucas said.

“How did this happen?” Noemi asked.

“Probably left over from his trauma in Nigeria,” Ham said.

Tae nodded, looking away.

Outside, rain spat on the windows.

“That accounts for the heart attacks?” Ham asked.

Of which, Colt had suffered three more since arriving. Three times he’d gone down, three times they’d brought him back.

“And the pericardial tamponade he had in Seattle,” Tae said. “The heart attacks are from myocarditis, which is a known but rare side effect of the smallpox vaccine.”

All eyes turned to her.

She looked at Lucas. “Right?”

“Yes,” he said grimly.

“Which means what?” Ham asked.

“It usually means his heart is beyond repair,” she said, and now she really wanted to throw up. “He needs a heart transplant.” Even as she said it, the world swayed. She sank into a chair.

“You’re way down the road there, Tae,” Lucas said. “We have other options. ACE inhibitors we can try to get his blood pressure down. And beta blockers. If we have to, we can even implant an ICD.”

Silence.

“It’s like a pacemaker,” Tae said softly. “Implantable cardioverter defibrillator. It restarts his heart when it stops. Over and over.”

“I’ll let you know how the pericardiocentesis goes,” Lucas said quietly.

She closed her eyes, her face in her hands.

“You don’t look so good, Tae.” When she opened her eyes, she saw that Ham had crouched in front of her. “Can someone get her some water?”

She sat up. “I’m fine. I’m not the one whose heart is exploding because of something I gave him—”