“You think you can stop this?” the man hissed, breath hot against Blake’s ear. “You don’t even know how many are already inside. You need to listen.”
Blake shoved him back, but the man slammed into the tray stand, sent scalpels skittering across the tile.
He wasn’t fleeing.
He wasn’t warning.
He was trying to finish the job he’d started.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Vivian’s pulsehammered in her ears, syncing with the steady beep of the monitor beside her bed. The air in the room turned electric—thick with the sound of grunts, the scrape of shoes, and the sharp, rhythmic gasp of men locked in a fight for survival.
She blinked, vision swimming from the painkillers still dulling her system, but the scene sharpened anyway—Blake, pinned against the wall, muscles straining, the tendons in his neck bulging. The man pressed in close, the knife between them catching the low hospital light.
Vivian scanned the room for the gun but didn’t see it in the muted light. The blade inched toward Blake’s chest. The sound of it cutting through fabric tore through her, quiet but unbearable.
Move.
The command came from somewhere deeper than thought. She shoved the blanket aside, ignoring the screaming protest of her bruised ribs or the dull pounding in her head. Her bare feet hit the cold tile with a slap that jarred her from head to toe. Every step made her vision pulse black at the edges, but she didn’t stop.
Blake’s arm trembled. The knife pressed closer.
Her gaze landed on the metal bedpan on the rolling tray. Empty. Heavy.
She grabbed it with both hands.
She stumbled forward and swung, sending her body into a spin she didn’t have the strength to stop.
The bedpan connected with the attacker’s skull, sharp and sickening—a hollow, metallicclangthat rattled her bones. The man jerked, eyes wide in shock, and the knife fell from his hand, clattering to the tile.
Vivian fell into the wall, the bedpan slipping from her grasp as if her strength had poured into that one desperate swing. The world tilted, colors bleeding together.
Blake’s voice broke through the chaos—raw, terrified.
“Vivian—hey—stay with me.”
The man staggered sideways, catching himself on the bedrail. Fury flashed through his dazed eyes—cold and focused now, the kind that promised he’d remember her face.
“Vivian—” Blake’s voice came from far away, strained, frantic.
She tried to answer, but her throat locked up.
The man pushed off the rail, blood streaking down his temple. He moved fast—too fast for someone just hit that hard. Blake lunged for him, but the stranger twisted, half stumbling, half sprinting for the door. He shouldered past Blake and vanished into the hall just as chaos broke open.
“Security!” someone shouted.
The alarm blared, the shrill tone drilling through her skull. The machines beside her bed screamed, cords jerking tight as her knees gave out.
Her body folded before she could stop it.
Strong hands caught her before the floor did.
His arms were solid and shaking around her. She’d never seen him shake. Not for anyone.
Blake’s voice broke through the noise. “Vivian—hey—stay with me.”
She blinked up at him, his face pale and sharp-edged in the flashing red of the alarm light. His expression cracked, just for an instant, but she caught it.
