Chapter 11: Contract
The nurse took Fin's message request with a tight smile. "I'll make sure it gets to the Hunter Guild. Rest now."
Fin sank back into the hospital pillow that felt like a rock wrapped in cheap cotton. He didn't expect much. Probably nothing at all. What was an F-rank nobody to them anyway? Just another slum rat who couldn't cut it.
The morning dragged. Pain meds made everything blurry. Beeping machines. Squeaking shoes. Voices in the hallway. He drifted in and out of consciousness, counting ceiling tiles when he was awake enough to focus.
When the door to his room slammed open around noon, he jerked awake, wincing as pain shot through his broken body.
Mara stood in the doorway, clipboard gripped in one hand like a weapon. Her glasses reflected the lights, hiding her eyes. Her hair was pulled back in that severe bun that matched her equally severe expression.
"Pathetic," she said, voice cold as ice.
Fin tried to laugh it off, but it came out as a weak cough. "Nice to see you too."
She didn't respond to his attempt at humor. Her heels struck the floor like hammers as she approached his bed, each step sharp and precise.
"One day," she said, staring down at him. "You couldn't even last one day without becoming a liability."
"Wasn't exactly my plan to get jumped—"
"I don't care about your excuses," she cut him off. Her voice remained perfectly flat, but he could sense the anger beneath it. "I've reviewed your medical report. Three broken ribs. Fractured clavicle. Concussion. Multiple lacerations. Six weeks minimum recovery time."