Chapter 13 A Memory In Chains

• The antiseptic white of the hospital ward stood out for a man like Luca Moretti. Machines were whirring softly in time with his beat, a lifeline compelling him to hold on to reality he couldn't remember anymore.
• Twelve hours.
• That's how long it lasted. The bullet had torn through his side and vibrated half an inch from his spine. One snap of timing and it would have killed him. Now he lay pale under the thin sheet, tubes in his arm, oxygen misting past his lips.