“Look for a black transport van,” Calliope said. “They’re waiting to take the patients to another hospital. They won’t ask questions.”
Once they were gone, Jericho turned, stalking back to Reed’s office. He cautiously jiggled the handle. Locked. Something about that infuriated him. Was the man seriously cowering in his office?
Jericho backed up, giving himself enough room to shock and awe the door from its hinges. When it crashed inward, Jericho swept his gun from left to right, but it was empty. Jericho’s heart squeezed. All he’d wanted was to be able to put a fucking bullet in that monster’s head, to see the fear in his eyes as he realized this moment would be his last.
August’s voice came over the speaker. “Left hallway secure. Targets eliminated. Rooms cleared.”
When Jericho didn’t respond, Seven said, “Right hallway secure. Rooms cleared.”
“Patients secure and en route, awaiting further instructions,” Lake said.
“Keep the van running,” Noah said. “Everybody in one piece? Atticus’s booboo aside.”
“Yeah,” Jericho said. “Red team’s good.”
“Blue team’s good, too.”
“We’ll meet topside,” August said, gesturing to Jericho.
The plan was for each of them to return the way they came, retrieve their vehicles, and muster back at Thomas’s super-secret garage to pick up their own cars. Jericho knew what they’d done was a good thing. The patients were free, the staff was dead. But Dr. Reed and Sister Agnes were still free to set up shop and do this all over again.
Jericho made his way back down the hallway, his gun at his side, Seven following close behind. Jericho pushed the door open, taking two steps, stopping short when he saw her.
Sister Agnes, pointing a gun directly at him.
The guard’s gun.
Fuck.
The woman’s voice shook as much as her hands when she said, “Don’t fucking move.”
They were halfway up the staircase when Atticus heard it, the sound of a revolver cocking and a woman’s voice ringing through the earpiece. The others heard it, too. Atticus froze, an icy fear tightening around his heart, constricting his breathing. What the fuck was going on? Had they not been clear? Had a nurse or doctor managed to hide themselves away? There was no way. Calliope had checked.
Then he was barreling back down the stairs, taking them two at a time, pausing only when he made it to the door that separated him from the south hallway. If he went charging in there, Jericho could die. Jesus. Jericho could die. Atticus suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. He took a deep breath and let it out.
Behind him, he could hear the others, but he didn’t wait, slowly easing the door open.
“What’s happening right now?” Noah asked through the ear piece.
Jericho’s voice was clear and steady. “Agnes? What are you going to do? We’re not here alone. That revolver has six rounds in it and there are ten of us. Put the gun down.”
He was telling them what was happening without alerting her he had a hot mic.
“Fuck you. You put your gun down,” Agnes snarled.
This bitch had to know she wasn’t walking out of there, right? Maybe she thought she could just go back the way she came. If she thought she was cornered, she might start shooting. Who knew the state of mind she was in?
“Shit. Okay. Can anybody get behind her?” Noah asked. “Lake? Levi? Felix? Are you still in the garage?”
“That garage door’s hinges are rusty and that hallway echoes like a motherfucker. She’d clock us before we were anywhere near them,” Lake said.
“But maybe that would give him a chance to shoot her,” Felix said, voice choked.
“No,” Atticus and Jericho said at the same time.
“What? No, what?” Agnes said, her voice ratcheting up a notch.
“I’m just telling my colleagues to stay back. That’s all. You’re in charge.”
