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A lot of them.

All of them coming down the tunnel at a steady pace, and the sound of boots on gravel filling that whole space.

“Ignore them,” he told me, as he obviously knew they were there long before I did. Like this had been the plan all along. Which was when it all finally clicked, and a lot slower than it should have.

The padlock.

That padlock lying on the floor with the metal loop cut clean through. That’s how they had gotten inside the hospital so quickly. Probably a place nobody had ever thought of securing. And everything else fell into place behind it.

I delivered myself to them.

I could have hidden. Could have stayed in that linen cart. I could have found a hundred other places and let them run out of time. I could have gone anywhere else in that whole building.

And instead, I had taken the one route that ended with his men behind me and him in front. And I had run down it as fast as my legs would carry me. Which meant I was still cursing myself even when we came out into the air through that door.

It hit me in the face, the cold and the smell of grass and diesel. I got about half a breath of it before he set me down on my feet. And I instinctively turned around, something he let me do.

I took in the sight of the old brick building at the edge of the grounds, the one the preservation society website said was old storage. And beyond it, parked in a line across the service road with their engines running and their lights off, were the vehicles.

Four of them. Black, square, armored, with heavy tires and steel across the windows like the fucking marines had just rolled in. There were men standing at every one of them with weapons across their chests at the ready for anything.

I counted thirteen before I gave up counting because I knew now that this wasn’t just a man escaping from a hospital. This was an operation. This had been planned for weeks and paid for by somebody with more money than I could even imagine. And every one of those men was standing out there in the cold dead of night waiting for one thing.

Him.

Or should I make that two… me included.

That was what finally landed, standing on wet grass in a pair of scrubs somebody else had put on me. All of these men and their vehicles and whatever else this had cost him… half of it was for me.

I have never in my life been worth anything like this to anybody. And this man had bought an army to come and collect me. A plan he had most likely made before ever setting foot in Corwin.

“The seclusion room… you broke his fingers to get sent there… because you wanted to see for yourself, didn’t you?” I asked, although by this point it wasn’t so much a question but more a bitter statement.

“I broke his fingers because he touched you. But yes, I would have been sent there regardless. He just saved someone else the pain,” he said and there was no boast in it and no apology either. It was simply a fact he was letting me in on because I asked.

“You had this all planned.” Again, this wasn’t a question as it was too obvious for it to be one.

“I did. But know this. If not here, then Ashlock. It did not matter where…” His hands came up onto my arms and turned me, slowly, until I had nowhere to look but at him.

“Only you dictated when.” I looked down at my feet at this, and told the grass,

“I didn’t have a chance, did I?” I felt him hook my chin, lifting my head to look up at him at the same time he dipped his head enough to whisper an inch from my lips,

“Not a single one.”

I closed my eyes at this and stepped back, before opening them again.

“What are you going to do with me?” It came out of me small and broken and I hated the sound of it. Then I looked around, watching as some of the men started to remove gear, placing it in the back of the trucks.

As for my kidnapper, he didn’t answer. Not right away. He reached out instead and ran the backs of his knuckles down the side of my face, and then he pushed my hair back off my forehead where it had all come forward while I was over his shoulder. He even straightened the collar of my scrubs, as if taking his time in putting me back together… Again.

“It’s much easier this way,” he said cryptically, so I snapped,

“That isn’t an answer.”

“No.” He almost smiled. “It’s not.”

Then he looked down at me, really looked, and stopped.