She lay at his mercy, covered in bandages and bruises, laying beneath the thin hospital blanket. He could see the small rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, her heart rate on the monitor a strong steady pulse. When he stopped beside her bed with the pillow in hand, she didn’t stir, but he heard a soft click. It was familiar to him; the sound of the hammer on a gun being pulled back. He could see peeking out from beneath the blanket was the end of a revolver, and without moving or opening her eye, she spoke.
“Matsunaga, what is it you think you’re doing?”