“I’ll give you a moment,” the doctor says, closing the door as he leaves.
I step forward, and the officer extends his hand. “Stay five feet away from him at all times.”
I set my bag on a chair, giving myself something to do other than look into the eyes of the man I betrayed.
“Thank you for saving my life, doc.” Grayson’s voice is rough, his accent thicker with the sedative.
I inhale a fortifying breath before I face him. “Did you attempt to take your own life, Grayson?”
“Did it hurt you?”
“What?”
“Did saving my life hurt you?” He strains to jut his chin toward me. “You’re back, I mean. You’re limping.”
I didn’t even realize I’ve been coddling the pain. “No,” I answer, shifting my stance. “I’m not hurt. Now tell me the truth. Did you?—?”
“I didn’t try to take my own life,” he says evenly, conviction clear in those pale blues.
I swallow. “Your chart stated you dosed yourself with over a thousand milligrams of penicillin. Somebody might consider thata suicide attempt, especially when you’re aware half that dosage is enough to kill you.”
He blinks drowsily and shrugs against the prop of pillows. “Maybe I just wanted one last chance to see you.”
My pulse flutters in my veins. “Cut the shit, Grayson. You wanted to be the one to end your life.” I cross my arms. “Honestly, I can understand that reasoning. If you were going to die, it was going to be on your own terms.”
“And not yours,” he says, sending me conspiratorial wink. “You took that promise to take it to the grave deathly serious.”
My stomach bottoms out, freefall. “Grayson. Not here.”
A sly smirk pulls at his mouth. “Whatever you say, doc.”
It happens fast then.
As I take another step forward, the guard reaches out to halt me. Grayson’s free hand grabs hold of the guard’s wrist and drags him over the gurney. Grayson nails the guard in the back of the head with his elbow. A gun appears in the commotion.
Grayson has the muzzle pressed against the officer’s temple. “Uncuff me,” he commands, but it’s not directed at the guard—he’s looking at me.
“No,” I say, my voice shaky with adrenaline.
His gaze hardens. “In five seconds, I’m going to pull this trigger. Do you want yet another life on your conscience, London?”
I lick my lips, stalling.
Grayson has never killed a person, not directly.That I know of.My instincts scream that he won’t do it now, that it contradicts his compulsions, his twisted principles. But then, he’s never been in a position like this before.
I’ve taken his life—and now he wants mine.
I have to choose to save the innocent life.
I unclip the keys from the officer’s belt and begin unshackling Grayson’s ankles from the gurney. “Let him go,” I demand.
“My wrist.” He yanks against the cuff with emphasis, and my gaze catches on his forearm, where he already removed the IV. He’s not drugged.
Grayson waits until I’ve freed his wrist before he stands, carefully maneuvering the guard with him. The man slings threats, trying to alert the officer outside the room, and Grayson strikes him over the back of his head. Yet the cop doesn’t go down with the first blow, or the second, and I have to look away as Grayson beats him until he finally drops to the floor.
“God, you’re an animal,” I say.
A devastating smile stretches across his lips. “You had the first part right.”
