4
Phillip hurt everywhere. There was not one bit of muscle, sinew, or bone that didn’t ache, tighten, or scream in agony. His thoughts were broken, mere fragments as a pulse pounded inside his throbbing skull. He tried to speak, but the breath in his lungs was too shallow. His limbs were like dead weights at his sides as he fought in vain to move, even an inch in any direction.
What happened? What…?
He struggled to catch hold of his last memories.
Cards…wagers…tunnels…blood.
He’d lost a wager to a man and agreed to fight in the Lewis Street tunnels…and he’d been attacked, outnumbered and beaten near to death.
“Rest now. You’re safe.” A soft voice drifted through his head. A sweet scent filled his nose. A familiar scent…
“Help…” The word was barely a rasp.
“Are you thirsty?” the voi
