Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
He wondered what those titles meant, what roles they carried out. They all addressed him with respect, and dare he say, awe in their voices.
Each person’s greeting was quiet and polite, nothing like the cold detachment of the ones from the White Sector. No one grabbed him or barked orders.
“Hello, Gage, my name is Rose McIntyre, I’m the lead coordinator of your personal assistants and hospitality team.”
Gage’s head was spinning.
A woman came closer, carrying the soft scent of vanilla shampoo and floral perfume. Gage imagined she had long blonde hair with deep curls and pale skin that blushed when she was outside in the cold.
“I’m Rose McIntyre, lead of your administrative and hospitality team.”
Hospitality?
“I manage the team that handles your daily logistics: Like appointments, needs for your living quarters, meals, your operational readiness, even your recovery blocks so you stay mission-efficient. You also have someone that governs communication between you and the different divisions, and a slew of other things. So, I basically make sure you have what you need before you even know you need it.”
Um. Will I really need all that?
“But, right now, my sole responsibility is to make sure you’re comfortable and that you have everything you need while you settle in.”
Rose’s voice was low and warm, making everything she said sound comforting.
“Tonight, you have no responsibilities or expectations. Your only task is to rest and become familiar with your quarters. This facility is your home, your haven. And tomorrow—if you feel up to it—we’ll begin your orientation.”
Gage nodded.
“I’ll escort you to your personal quarters.”
“Nah,” Roz cut in sharply. “I’ll take him. He’s not going anywhere without me.”
Rose’s voice was gentle. “I can show you both—”
“No,” Roz snapped. “Just tell me where it is.”
Gage sighed inwardly. He knew his friend meant well, but he was starting to make him feel like a toddler being dragged around by an overprotective parent.
“I’m Dr. Aliyah Rockwell,” another woman said.
Roz yanked Gage behind him. “Whoa, back up. He don’t need no doctor or any more fuckin’ experiments.”
“Roz, I can understand your hesitation,” Jo intervened. “But Dr. Rockwell is one of the country’s leading ophthalmologists. She’s the former Chief of Vision Trauma at Walter Reed and served over twenty years, rehabilitating combat veterans with catastrophic sight loss. We’re very lucky to have her.”
Dr. Rockwell stepped in closer. Very close.
Her honey-sweet scent was subtle. Her authority and confidence weren’t.
She got in Roz’s space, close enough Gage could feel the annoyance in her breathing.
“Let me be extremely clear,” she said with a sharp tone. “I am the only thing standing between your friend and a lifetime of confusion and pain. No one is experimenting on him. My job is to teach Gage how to live, not as a helpless blind victim, but as a vision-impaired Raven. A man with independence and full use of the abilities and strength he doesn’t realize he possesses.”
Roz didn’t say anything else.
Thank God.
Dr. Rockwell lowered her voice, like doctors did when talking to a hesitant patient.
“Gage, without a full examination, I can already see how fatigued you are,” she said. “Your conjunctiva is inflamed. The pupillary response is reduced to less than forty percent, and the eye muscles behind the right eye are twitching from overstimulation.”
He thought her assessment might be spot on since it felt like his eyes were about to burst into flames.
“Can someone kill the floodlights, please? Now,” she ordered.
The doctor’s breath ghosted over his chin. She was short, but she carried herself like a giant.
He already liked her.
A second later, the lights snapped off.
The burning pressure eased almost instantly.
“I’ve had weighted eye masks placed in a warmer in your quarters. They’re infused with chamomile and lavender. It’ll help soothe your retinal pain and reduce your headache.”
Gage was too exhausted and sore to turn down any potential relief.
During the remainder of the flight, Valor and Zorion had told him their own story, which sounded like hell incarnate. Yet they stood alive, free, content, and loyal to Jo. If they trusted her…maybe he could try too.
“Okay,” he sighed.
“Right this way.” Rose said.
“Fine. Let’s go.” Roz took his arm and dragged him forward, but a hand was slapped against his friend’s chest.
“Are you blind?” Dr. Rockwell barked.
“What?” Roz sputtered.
She got in his face like a drill sergeant.
“I said. Are. You. Blind?”
“No…?”
“Then why are you clutching his goddamn arm?” she snarled.
She gently peeled Roz’s grip from his bicep and repositioned their hold, so Gage’s hand rested on the back of Roz’s upper arm.
“There,” she said. “Assist him, don’t lead him. He’s not a fuckin’ pony.”
Gage smiled.
The elevator ascended quietly while Rose continued to fill him in.
“There are quite a few of us assigned to you. Once we learn your preferences, we’ll be better able to anticipate your needs. Food, clothing, room adjustments, comfort items.”
“We’ll be fine,” Roz muttered.
“Everyone says that at first,” she said with a delicate laugh—Gage imagined she had a nice smile, full lips, and perfect teeth. “You should see how busy the Black and Browns keep their team. Grace cooks a lot, and Meridian has an extensive personal care regimen.”