Hearing Victor's words felt like a physical blow to Ethan's mind, as if something solid had struck him square in the head.
"Blackie… he…" Ethan managed to force out the name before Victor cut him off.
"He's… he should be okay," Victor said quickly.
"Okay?" Ethan seized on the word. Victor was not someone who offered false comfort, not even to ease panic. That alone punched a narrow slit of icy calm through Ethan's fear.
"His vitality is insane. The wound… it's already closing," Victor continued, his voice threaded with disbelief.
In Victor's experience, a throat wound was a kill shot. A blade cutting a third of the way through the neck should have severed the windpipe, and once that happened, death followed within moments. There were no exceptions, at least not ones he had ever seen. And yet, moments ago…
They had been ambushed.
