"We need to work together on this," I say, medical bag already open at my feet. The claiming bond pulses between the three of us, a bizarre triangle of connection none of us asked for. Tink's unseeing eyes dart back and forth, tracking our movements with uncanny precision. Her chest rises and falls in rapid, shallow breaths. She's balanced on a knife-edge of panic. "I need to check her condition, but any sudden movement could trigger another attack."

Nero nods, holstering his gun ...