Chapter 1 - The Water's Edge
Martha did not move away from the edge of the tub.
Her eyes remained locked on Maxwell Rourke's right foot.
The water rippled gently around his muscular calves.
He stared back at her with a look that could freeze boiling water.
"You saw nothing," he said softly.
His voice barely carried over the hiss of the steam.
Martha slowly stood up and wiped her wet hand on her apron.
"Nerves don't regenerate by magic, Mr. Rourke."
"If you can feel temperature, you are healing."
Maxwell leaned forward, his massive shoulders tense.
"I said, you saw nothing."
He grabbed her wrist with terrifying speed.
His grip was like iron, a stark contrast to his supposed paralysis.
"People in my world die for knowing less than you do right now."
Martha did not flinch, despite the bruising pressure on her skin.
"Then kill me."
"But if you want to walk again, you need someone who knows how to rehabilitate those muscles without drawing attention."
Maxwell searched her eyes for a long, silent moment.
He let go of her wrist just as heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Someone was approaching the bathroom door.
Martha scrambled back to grab the stack of fresh towels.
"Don't say a word," Maxwell whispered.
The bathroom door swung open without a knock.
A tall man in a tailored gray suit stepped through the steam.
It was Dr. Vance, the expensive specialist in charge of Maxwell's condition.
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He held a syringe filled with a strange, cloudy liquid.
"Time for your weekly nerve inhibitor, Maxwell," the doctor said with a smile that did not reach his eyes.
