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“Do you know who performed surgery on the other victim?” I ask the orderly when he passes me.

“Sorry, no.” He swallows, looking uncomfortable.

Unable to speak, I gesture for him to go, releasing him to return to his work. As soon as I’m alone inside recovery, I step to the foot of Sasha’s bed and stare up at her pale body. The woman lying there is a far cry from the strong person I’ve come to know.

“What happened?” I hang her chart back on the bed and reach down and touch her foot. “I’m so sorry.”

The only response I get is the beeping of her machine telling me she’s alive, unlike whoever she was partnered with tonight.

“Who was on duty with you?” I don’t know why I ask; it’s not like she can give me an answer.

With a heavy heart and a lump in my throat, I choke out a goodbye, silently praying for her swift recovery.

Adrenaline surges through my veins, every sound around me suddenly too loud.

The only other surgeon approved to work solo tonight is Dr. Fletcher. He’s good, just as good as me. I can’t imagine what he’s dealing with if he lost someone on his table.

Then it hits me.

Was Ryan the other guard on duty? It was his turn, wasn’t it?

I can’t for the life of me remember.

I approach the surgical desk, hoping the nurse on duty knows where I can find Billy. Before I can ask, a hand lands on my shoulder, and I turn.

Relief washes over me as I come face to face with Marty. But it doesn’t last… something’s wrong.

“I thought…” I take in his demeanor and become confused. “What happened? Is it Ryan? Was he?”

“I don’t know.” He fidgets, his eyes darting around the open ward, clearly on edge. “You need to come with me. I need to get you out of here.”

“I can’t just leave,” I remind him, but he doesn’t seem to hear me.

Grabbing my arm, he steers me toward the staff lifts, his grip tight, his voice urgent as he repeats himself. “I need you to come with me. That wasn’t a question. Please don’t make me…”

The silence that descends after his words fade is charged with a disquieting atmosphere, making my skin tingle.

“Marty?”

The doors open, and Marty urges me inside before I can stop him. Blocking me in, he presses G3 and the down arrow to take us to the basement of the carpark without stopping.

“I understand you want answers. But we need to move. You’ll get them… in time.”

“What’s going on?”

His back is to me, his body twitchy, unsettled—and suddenly it’s clear. I was too wrapped up in my emotions to notice.

My gut turns, screaming the truth.

This isn’t him whisking me off to protect me.

He’s taking me.

“Why?”

“It’s nothing personal.” He shrugs, glancing over his shoulder. “I hope you understand that.”

I let out a loud, derisive scoff and roll my eyes, unable to hide my disdain. “Why do they always say that? And I don’t.”