Rex sat slumped against the metal legs of the operating table, his chest heaving as the massive surge of adrenaline finally bottomed out.
His stomach clenched violently.
He hunched over and threw up, hacking up bitter stomach acid, water, and thick, dark bile onto the floor.
"Ugh... my ball..." Rex wheezed, wiping his mouth with the back of a bloody forearm. "Why the hell does your balls hurt when you suddenly throw up violently."
The passive healing boost from [Systemic Fortitude] was knitting his torn muscle fibers back together, but the sheer exhaustion of the night felt like a physical weight pressing him into the floor.
He forced himself back up onto trembling legs, scanning the medical room.
He grabbed two clean white lab coats from the supply rack, draped one over Edri to keep her from going into shock, and scooped her up into a careful princess carry against his chest.
He needed an exit. Now.
