Page 51 of Trapped Truth

“I’m sure that can be arranged.”

“Thanks, Em. I’m going crazy sitting around waiting for my body to stitch itself back together.”

“Hey, I’ve been there.” I shrug it off. “I know what it’s like to be held back by your health. At least with my condition stabilising, I can take a pill and function relatively normally now.”

He smooths out his shirt, revealing another classic pun—I’m a little chilli in big letters with a drawing of a shivering red pepper in the centre. Honestly, I’ve missed my goofball and his dumb clothing.

When the door reopens, I shift back to allow Doctor Holiwell to approach Axel and deliver the appointment confirmation. Only his hair is no longer a silvery pouf, and a blue surgical mask covers where that kind smile should be.

I glance between the new doctor and the door. “Who are you?”

“Doctor Holiwell is indisposed,” the stranger rumbles. “I’m here to take care of you now.”

It takes a split-second for my entire body to freeze over, like I’ve been submerged in an arctic lake and left to accept a hypothermic fate. Then I’m reaching for the weapon discreetly tucked underneath my leather jacket.

When he sets down a blank clipboard and turns to face us, I spy a tattoo at the juncture between his thumb and index finger. The small, almost geometric symbol seems oddly familiar, though I’m not sure why.

“We’re waiting for a prescription.” Axel’s brows tug together.

“It’ll be a little while longer, I’m afraid.”

Pinpricks race over the back of my neck, delivering a heavy dose of alarm. “You don’t work here, do you?”

“Excuse me, miss?” His pale-green eyes narrow.

“Your right hand—the tattoo. I’ve seen it before.”

For a moment, I fear I’m mistaken. Then he peels the surgical mask free to unveil a toothy leer.

“I thought you’d make this easy, 768. But I can do this the hard way too.”

“Ax! Get down!”

In the time it takes me to pull the semi-automatic from my waist holster, the intruder has unsheathed a long, deadly-looking switchblade from the pocket of his medical coat and flicked it open.

Distant screams echo at the blast of my gun firing, planting a bullet in the wall behind where the asshole ducks. I follow it up with another hurried shot towards his crouched form, but it merely sails over his shoulder without making impact.

Limbs blur as he rushes at me across the linoleum. Before I can pop off another shot, my legs are swept from underneath me, and I go down hard. The pistol flies from my grasp when my body crashes into the floor, jolting my spine.

“Ember!”

“Stay down, Axel!”

Wiry arms coil around me then constrict with impressive strength, using the opportunity to body slam me into the floor. When the breath flies from my lungs with a spluttered heave, I almost throw up from the violence of it.

“Blaine! Help!” Axel shouts penetrate the cavernous buzz reverberating through my skull. “In here!”

There’s no time to wait for backup. We have to get out of this bind. Yet the son of a bitch has leveraged himself on top of me, trying to wrap his big, hairy hands around my throat. I only have seconds to spare.

Moving faster than he can launch an attack, I rapidly strike him in the gut, lavishing the resultant grunt. Lava erupts under my skin where he strikes me with a firm backhand in response.

“Stay down, bitch!”

“Never!” I spit into his face.

Landing another strike to his side, right in the vulnerable opening where his ribcage should end, he curls over in pain. It opens up the space for me to deliver a punch to the cheekbone, throwing his weight off.

We roll across the floor, limbs flailing in an attempt to gain the upper hand. A fist sinks into my stomach, pummelling my organs until I cry out. With black spots dancing in my periphery, I push past the pain to lock my arms around his torso, refusing to relent until I’m on top.