I froze as her words punched me in the heart. Words I’d expected yet—
“I want to leave with every fibre of my being,” she continued. “But...I want to leave withyou.”
I froze.
Why?
Why was she willing to put her life on the line for me?
Therehadto be a logical explanation why we affected each other so much. Why she made my entire system turn haywire with a single look.
The air grew so thick with unspoken things, I struggled to breathe.
A throat cleared loudly as one of the doctors interrupted our staring competition. “In that case, we’ll get going then.”
My gaze snapped to the eldest doctor. “Not yet, you’re not. You’re not dismissed.”
“Listen here, you can’t just—”
“I can and I am.” Letting go of Whisper’s ear, I crossed my arms. “I have one more task before you can leave.”
“Look, I think we’ve been extremely accommodating,” Harry muttered. “We’re leaving—”
“Remove these cuffs from my wrists.” I held up my arms and the silver bondage trapping me. “And yank this torture device out of my heart.” I tapped the vitalsync core. “Do that and I won’t just let you leave, I’ll ensure you’ll never have to work again if you don’t want to.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Harry asked.
“It means get these fucking things out of me and I’ll give you whatever you want.”
Chapter Fourteen
I LAY BACK DOWN ON THE DESK—tryingto be obedient so they would do what I asked. It wasn’t comfortable. I would’ve preferred being unconscious again but...I wouldn’t let them out of this room unless they did what I commanded.
Whisper would be only too happy to provide the threats if they tried to be difficult.
Arching up on my elbows, I looked at the two doctors standing stiff and awkward by the door.
“Do it,” I hissed, interrupting the stagnant silence. “Remove them and you can go.”
With a heavy sigh, Harry and Roger shared a glance then moved to flank me on the desk.
“Lie down,” Roger ordered.
Having men this close to me. Men towering over me like they had when they’d inserted the very thing I wanted them to take out.
Fuck, it was hard.
Every part of me wanted to slaughter them, but...I gritted my teeth and lay back.
Grabbing my wrists, each doctor inspected a cuff, manipulating my arms almost in synchronisation. Wordlessly, they turned my palms up and down, studying the metal.
“Why do you have vascular access ports?” Harry finally asked. “Why one on each wrist? Why not in the usual place on the chest?”
Before I could reply—not that I had any intention of doing so—Harry pressed along the edge of the cuff. The skin had long since turned into scar tissue. His touch sent nasty vibrations right to my bones.
I fought the urge to kill him.
“You were bled regularly?”
