Wes’ POV

“I just want to know if you have a death wish or not.”

Cameron’s hands are pressed together, only the tips touching, fingers pointing to the floor between his legs. We’re a far cry from Tartarus, somewhere that smells like harsh cleaning products and empty promises. Not a hospital—not nearly enough staff—but there’s a registered nurse checking my vitals, an IV in my hand feeding me back to a more stable condition.

Overdose. That’s ...