Sorry? What could she be sorry about?
Before Misha could ask, he was plunged into his nightmares. The bright light of day was gone; all he saw was the operating room from his Red Room time. He couldn't breathe for the panic choking him at being tied down to a table, or the sight of a scalpel slicing into his chest as the doctor operated on him without anesthesia. Again.
"David!" he grounded out between teeth clenched at the psychic agony slicing into his chest. "Tessa!"
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