Hair moving off my face startles me awake. I pull the punch I intended to give when Cori's sweat-soaked brow comes into view. Her sloppily wrapped hand rests on the bed beside me and she's using her uninjured hand to move my hair aside.

"We need to wrap your hand," I say in a throaty voice I don't recognize as my own. The throb in my head is almost debilitating. Every part of me hurts.

"No, Mak, you need to let me go and worry about you." She rests the palm of her good ...