I didn't realize I was broadcasting them until Scott jerked up beside me.
"You fucking bastard!" Beside me on the bed, Scott snarled and began to shift, but the doctor pulled his other hand free of his pocket, the silver blade of a scalpel flashing in the sun.
"Come now, Alpha," he huffed in annoyance as he slashed at the air, "do you really think that your body can take exposure to any more silver?"
He caught me around the neck by his arm and dragged me from the bed, hold the scalpel to my neck. Gripping the needle in his teeth, he dug around in his coat pocket until he drew out another needle, this one still capped and tossed it across to Scott. "Unless you want to see his pretty red blood spilled all over the floor, you'll inject yourself."
"No! He's going to kill me anyway!" I shouted, struggling against the arm that had an iron grip on my throat.
"Just relax, Harley," Scott said calmly, flicking the cap off the needle and holding it over his thigh. "It'll be okay."
"No, no!" the doctor snapped. "It has to go into your vein. Use your arm!" As he tried to lean past my head to see the veins in my Alpha's arm, I heard the tiniest noise from behind us. Jerking free, I dropped to the floor as a loud thud ran through the room and the doctor slumped over, the scalpel falling harmlessly from his grip.
The needle was a different story.
When he fell, it had slipped from his teeth and was lodged in his lip.
As the doctor's body writhed on the floor next to me, his eyes jerked erratically under half-closed lids and flecks of foam began to build at the corner of his lips. Looking up, I saw Levi standing in the doorway, a large cast iron skillet in one hand and his cell phone in the other.
"It's okay, Rafe," he said into the phone, his voice trembling. "Miango is down. Everything is going to be fine."
