Wright screams.
I whip my head around to find her pinned to the wall, her feet dangling in the air and Derek’s hand wrapped around her neck.
My heart leaps to my throat but then Wright’s knee finds Derek’s balls with unerring accuracy and he doubles over, his grip slipping. Wright drops to the floor and slams the base of her baton between his shoulder blades.
Just as I think she’s got the upper hand, the senator grabs hold of Wright’s braid and pulls her close. “Enough,” he snarls. Metal glimmers in the air as he raises his arm and my heart seizes.
“Wright!” I scream, lunging forward. I’m too late to stop him though. He sinks the needle into Wright’s neck, pushing down on the syringe and flooding her system with what I hope to god is just a sedative.
Claren flings her into the corner, discarding her like she’s a bag of trash. I skid across the linoleum floor on my knees, slipping my hand around the back of her neck. “Wright.”
Her lashes flicker, her eyes turning glassy.
I glare at the senator. “What did you give her?”
He just smirks and picks up a scalpel. “Let’s get back to it, shall we?”
Weak fingers squeeze my hand, and I look down at Wright. “I’m here, it’s okay. You’re going to be fine.”
Wright’s eyes drift shut but not before she whispers, “Knife…boot.”
I look down at her Doc Martins, at the wooden handle sticking out of the black leather. My pen knife. The one Flynn gave me. Wright must have found it out in the corridor.
Derek is only just getting to his feet, his hand cradling his groin.
Flynn is still strapped to the machine.
I inch my hand down to Wright’s boot until my fingers curl around the wooden handle. I flick the knife open.
My heartbeat slows.
Turning around, I eye the senator as he walks back to Flynn’s side, scalpel in hand.
I’ve pretty much got the picture now—any metal that gets too close to the MRI is sucked in—which means I have to be accurate, and I have to apply enough force to counteract the magnetic field.Oh god.I can see the headline now.
Woman tries to save boyfriend and ends up killing him.
I have to do something though.
I swallow hard. Then I stand up and do what I’ve seen Wright do a hundred times. I throw the knife.
And I miss.
Because I’ve never thrown a knife before in my life so of course I do. The blade flings past the Senator, the tip burying itself in the wall behind him. Derek and Claren both stare at the knife, then turn to look at me.
Oh crap.
I’m busy trying to figure out what the fuck I do now when the knife starts to vibrate. My eyes widen and the senator follows my gaze, turning to face the knife just as the magnet pulls it free from the wall. The blade flips, tip first, and sinks like a hot knife through butter into Claren’s eye.
The spray of blood is almost comical. It doesn’t look real and everything that happens next is like something out of a thriller movie as Claren’s body drops and Flynn launches up, yanking the scalpel from his shoulder and slitting Derek’s throat.
Blood splatters across the white MRI machine and sprays in an arc across Flynn’s hoodie. Derek drops and Flynn throws the scalpel to the far end of the room, away from the magnet, before turning to face me. The room goes eerily quiet.
Specks of blood are bright against his pale face but that’s nothing compared to the stain seeping out from his side. I didn’t notice it before because the hoodie is black, but that stain matches the one spreading on his shoulder where the scalpel was. It’s too dark to be anything but blood. Blood coming from exactly where Wright’s knife hit.
“Lilac,” Flynn says, swaying on his feet. “Call Lachlan.”
It’s all he has time to say before he collapses.
