The wail of sirens penetrates the fog, and I realize I'm moving. Yes… The lingering memory hovers like fog, but I remember the man stabbing me, and I remember seeing the dead bodies of the final two men on Jace's list. I'm in an ambulance headed toward the hospital.
Someone's speaking to me, a paramedic whose face I can't focus on properly. They’re asking me questions about pain levels and allergies. I try to respond but my words come out slurred and incoherent. A mask covers my face delivering oxygen, and an IV line runs into my arm pumping fluids and pain medication that makes responding that much more difficult.
The ambulance slows and then stops, and I hear the back doors opening followed by a rush of activity. The gurney I'm on jostles and shakes as they pull it from the bus, and I catch glimpses of bright lights and ceiling tiles as they wheel it into the hospital. More voices surround me now, medical staff calling out numbers and instructions while hands work to cut away my blood-soaked clothing and assess the damage.
"Stab wound to the left side, penetrating approximately four inches deep." I can't tell who is speaking. It's so overwhelming. "The patient is stable but has lost significant blood. Prep for surgery."
The word "surgery" registers, but I can’t hold onto it. I can’t even maintain focus for more than a minute because the drugs pull me under again. The ceiling tiles blur and then disappear, and I sink into darkness.
When consciousness returns again, I'm in a different room. It's frightening to only hear beeping and only see blurry streaks of the ceiling. My mouth is dry and my throat feels raw, and when I try to move my hands, I discover they’re restrained. Cold metal binds my right wrist, and I follow the chain with my eyes to see I'm handcuffed to the hospital bed rail.
I get a gut-sick feeling that I have to fight down. This is what I planned for, but being chained to a bed while recovering from surgery makes the reality feel more visceral than I anticipated. I'm completely vulnerable here, unable to defend myself or escape if Captain Bryan shows up. And I know he'll show up if he hears I'm here. He put a hit on me and I've made national headlines in conjunction with his hitlist. Of course he'll come to find out what I know and why I'm not dead.
A nurse walks into the room and looks me over, though there's a hint of distaste on her expression as she speaks. "Good to see you conscious. How are you feeling? Pain level on a scale of one to ten?" She walks straight to her computer in the corner and logs in, standing there to do something I can't see.
"Seven," I grunt. My voice comes out as a croak, and she pours water from a pitcher into a small cup before holding it to my lips so I can drink. The liquid is heaven, soothing my parched throat and clearing some of the fog from my mind. I can't remember the last time I was in a hospital. I don't like them at all, and I like them even less with cuffs on my wrists.
"That's to be expected, given the surgery." She sets the cup aside and adjusts my IV. "You're very lucky. The knife missed all major organs but your right lung. Forty stitches internally and externally to close the wound, but you should make a full recovery barring any complications."
After seeing that much blood, it's a wonder I didn't die just from blood loss. I'm grateful they kept me alive, but now I have to face the hard part. There's a reason I'm strapped to this bed with restraints.
"How long was I out?" I try to sit up because I'm feeling more awake, but the pain that shoots through my ribs is searing. I wince, and she lifts an eyebrow at me in judgment.
"Eight hours. The surgery took three, and you've been in recovery since then. The anesthesia should be mostly out of your system by now, but you'll still feel groggy and disoriented for a while." She finishes with the IV and steps back. "You have a visitor waiting. Would you like me to send him in?"
Hope flares in my chest for a split second as I think of Jace. He's not stupid enough to be seen with me after what happened, though. This visitor has to be someone else—Everett, maybe, or Captain Bryan. It's not likely Ham would show up either, given the risk to his life and how the Barone organization has taken over the hitlist from Jace. And that's a possibility I haven't thought of either. What if my "visitor" is the new hitman?
"Yes," I tell her reluctantly, because curiosity wins out. I'm safe enough in this bed for now. "Please send him in."
The nurse nods and leaves, and I wait with my heart hammering against my ribs. Seconds tick by that feel like hours, and I strain to hear footsteps approaching from the hallway. When the door opens, I turn my head while my heart feels like it may jump out of my chest.
Captain Bryan steps into the room and closes the door behind himself with a sardonic smile, like he's happy to see me only because he plans to end me. My entire body goes rigid despite the pain the movement causes, and I feel my pulse spike so dramatically that the heart monitor begins alarming for a second. This can’t be happening. He shouldn't be here. he shouldn't have access to me while I'm handcuffed and helpless.
"Hello, Sabine." His voice is smooth and pleasant, like he's greeting an old friend. "I heard you were injured and I wanted to check on you personally. Make sure you’re receiving proper care."
"Get out," I hiss, but he ignores me. He smiles as he approaches the bed. "Get out of my room…"
"Now, now, is that any way to speak to an old friend?" He stops beside the bed and looks down at me with an expression offeigned concern. "You're the one who went on a killing spree, Sabine. You hacked classified databases, accessed sensitive personnel information, and then systematically murdered eleven soldiers from our unit. That's what the evidence shows, and that's what everyone believes."
The accusation makes rage burn through the drug-induced fog, and I pull against the handcuffs uselessly. "You know that's not true. You did this—you're the one who should be in custody."
"But I'm not." Bryan leans closer, and I can smell that disgusting cologne that almost triggers flashbacks. "And do you know why? Because your trail of destruction has done wonders for my career advancement. The military thinks you went rogue and started killing squad members to prevent them from testifying in favor of me. They think you're a disturbed individual with a vendetta, and I'm the victim of your obsession."
He straightens and clasps his hands behind his back. "They’re fast-tracking my advancement now, Sabine… You can't stop it anymore. No one will ever believe a word you say again because you're deranged."
The gloating in his voice makes my stomach turn, and I gather saliva in my mouth and spit in his face. The action is childish and ineffective, but it's the only weapon I have while chained to this bed. Bryan's expression transforms from smug satisfaction to cold fury, and he wipes the spit away with the back of his hand.
"You shouldn't have done that," he growls, and before I can react his hand closes around my throat, cutting off my air and making spots dance across my vision. "You're going to die here in this hospital, and everyone will think you succumbed to complications from your surgery. Nobody will question it because you're already a murderer and a traitor."
I toss my head, attempting to throw him off, but he is stronger and I’m weakened from surgery and drugs. I can't defend myself from this with my hands chained down. This is exactly what I feared would happen. The world starts to gray at the edges, and panic floods my system as I realize he's actually going to kill me. Not later, not in some planned elimination, but right now while I'm helpless and chained to a bed.
"I'll turn everyone against you." Bryan's face is inches from mine now, and I can see the madness burning in his eyes. "Every single person who might've believed your story will think you died a liar and a killer. Your mother, your friends, anyone who ever cared about you will remember you as the soldier who went insane and murdered her squad. That's your legacy, Sabine."
The door opens again and Bryan releases my throat immediately, stepping back from the bed and composing himself as I gasp and cough. A man in his fifties wearing the uniform of a full colonel enters the room, and his eyes move between Bryan and me and he doesn't look happy to be called away from whatever duty he had before being summoned.
"Captain." The colonel's voice carries authority that makes Bryan straighten to attention. "What are you doing in here? This prisoner's not cleared for visitors, especially not command staff from her unit."
Bryan stands at attention, hand pressed to his forehead in a salute until the colonel nods at him. When he relaxes at ease, I glare at him. "I wanted to check on her condition, sir." It's disgusting how quickly he can go from threatening me to pretending to care. "Staff Sergeant Hart served under me for years, and I felt it was my duty to ensure she was receiving proper medical care."
