Pain throbbed through Isabel's consciousness. She raised a hand to her brow, praying it would stop.
"She's awake, Captain."
Isabel didn't want to open her eyes, afraid the pain would only increase if she did. Something poked her shouldersomething hot and sharp. She cried out.
Boot steps scuffed toward her. With difficulty, she pried open her heavy lids. Kent hovered over her on the left, concern in his eyes, while Cutter ardently searched through a black satchel on her right. Hann grinned at her from the foot of the bed.
"What happened?" Her gaze took in the familiar details of her cabin. Sunlight penetrated the dirty window and set floating dust particles aglitter. Isabel searched her memories. The last thing she recalled was Sawkins attacking the poor starving slave.
"Never fear, milady. 'Tis but a flesh wound. Ah." Cutter withdrew a vial from his bag and turned toward Isabel. "The pistol shot went clean through."