GermanyTwo days later Not too shabby, Lizzy thought. She’d cruised through finger surgery. The doctors were pleased with the injury site.The next day the shady dudes in suits were back to question her. This time it was a lady with perfectly coifed hair and artfully applied makeup who made Lizzy feel like a soiled pile of bones, languishing in starched and sterile sheets. Refusing to have any family members present, Lizzy soldiered through the barrage of questions, pleased with her robotic responses. She’d handled it like a boss, all on her own. What was all the fuss about?Lizzy’s gloomy entourage was getting on her damn nerves. John looked like he wanted to start a phonebook-ripping rampage when Lizzy asked them all—including him—to leave the room while the agent questioned her.John could never know the details of her last day with the Scythian, and Lizzy didn’t need t

 They were off to a good start on the ride from the Landstuhl hospital to the Frankfurt airport, chatting as Johnny negotiated the ninety-minute drive. Lizzy was happy to be discharged after twelve days in the hospital. It all went to shit when he pulled into the rental lane, ran around and leaned over to unclip her belt. It could’ve been the click, or him looming too far into her personal space. She flinched like he’d hit her. Her panic attack slammed in like a tidal wave. This was something new to her, and her terror and confusion slammed through him as she wordlessly begged for help. Johnny crouched on the tarmac for thirty minutes, ignoring angry motorists, instead chatting, asking questions, and gradually pulling her out of the flashback.His mind raced over his limited choices. Take her back to the clinic or check them into a Frankfurt hotel for the night or board the plane with an emotionally traumatized subject. Once she’d recovered her

Five days later and her new routine held her cemented in that same spot. Three nights of bloodcurdling night terrors and agonizing pain around her injury. Mornings spent at this fence post. Afternoons with Dr. Greene, who was an okay therapist, Lizzy supposed. She battled to open up to the old biddy. What did that old bird know about being held hostage by extremists?What did anyone know? It was tempting to reach out to Mason Clark. He was the only other one who lived through the Scythian terror. Was he as broken as she felt? Did he have a stable support system?John was her rock. Lizzy wasn’t sure what a self-entitled, ungrateful and now damaged girl did to deserve such devotion. He’d slept on the freaking floor beside her bed—a fussing warrior watching her every move.Well, that wasn’t fair. Not every move. He kept his distance when there were chores to be done, only pausing to shake her out of the reverie and force her to eat.C

 Therapy started the next day with massages to the injury site to reduce scar sensitivity. Lack of mobility and stiffness were challenges to be overcome. The occupational therapist limited her activities, and Lizzy could see why. The hand was far from functional and would remain that way for three months. No gripping, twisting tightened objects or using the palm to push out of a chair. The surgery had removed and rerouted tendons and nerves, to aid with functionality, and to overuse the hand would cause damage.When her first session finally ended, and the therapist left, she shook with pain. John stepped through the back door as she gulped down a couple of pain pills.“You need to eat something.”“Yes, sir!”“Don’t get snarky,” he said, pulling out a loaf of sliced bread. “By the way, I need to run down to Salt Lake tomorrow. I’m meeting the team at Camp Williams. We’re looking at a

He must be around three years old, Lizzy thought as Gabe clambered into her lap. Darn her stubborn nature, she’d left this reunion for too long. The ragamuffin had grown. Lizzy ran a hand over his thick dark curls. She saw so much of Abby in the little man who even had his mother’s slightly stubborn looking chin. “Careful of Aunt Lizzy’s hand!” Abby yelled as Gabe tucked in his stubby legs and situated himself.Max chewed on a gummy worm and handed the kid a sip cup.The two women sat in the shade of the cottonwood chatting as John warmed up the grill. Lizzy played with Gabe’s curls. The last time she’d seen the tyke, he was around eighteen months. Now he was a whole little person with a clear agenda.Gabe yelled at his dad. Lizzy didn’t catch the garbled request. Abby rolled her eyes as Max answered. “I said no, Gabriel. Uncle Johnny doesn’t have any and I’m not going into town.&rdqu