AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Motherfucker,” Grant spits. “They lied to me. They fucking lied. Swore they didn’t know him.”
“Please, Mr. Law,” I plead. “Can you tell me if Aleksander Arrendell is hurting my sister? Please, I need to know.”
His head turns weakly toward me again.
But he only lets out a soft, rolling sigh before his eyes slip shut again.
And the monitors hooked up to him go wild as his vitals take a sharp dive.
“He’s crashing!” one of the nurses cries, and suddenly we’re being shoved out of the way, thrust toward the door by the bodies clustering around Law and trying to secure his hold on life. “Everyone who isn’t staff,out. Now!”
Grant and I exit dutifully, regrouping in the hall and watching helplessly.
I don’t realize Grant’s trembling with anger until his hand finds mine, wraps it up tight, seeking as much as giving comfort.
I hold on for dear life.
“I shouldn’t have forced it,” Grant whispers. “Shouldn’t have tried to make him talk in that state.”
“You didn’t do this.” I shake my head. “He was in bad shape, Grant. He’d have hurt himself more trying to fight them to say what he wanted. You helped him.”
“I don’t even know the old bastard.” It comes out rough. The ridges of Grant’s knuckles print hard against my palm. “Hell, half an hour ago, I was ready to throttle him for stalking you. Now, I’d give my left arm to keep him alive.”
“It’s hope. Because there’s already been too much death around here.”
He doesn’t answer.
But that tight grip on my hand never wavers, keeping us locked together.
We stand together for what feels like hours, watching as the doctors get Law settled, bringing his vitals back to a modest baseline.
It’s a good sign.
Anything that could give him those symptoms of organ failure—ricin or otherwise—would be a slow, quiet killer. It’s possible he ingested it days ago and only found himself feeling a little off before it started to really hit.
But even when it passes that crucial threshold, it’s still not quite the point of no return. Organ failure deaths are slow and agonizing.
For now, there’s a chance to save him, if he’s holding through this.
There’s still a chance to pull him back from the cliff.
Please, God.
Hasn’t there been enough suffering in this town?
But I have a funny feeling God isn’t listening to me right now.
Because even as Law settles into a fitful sleep, intubated and sedated again, the respirator forcing his chest to rise and fall...
That same cacophony of screaming machines rises.
Not from Law.
But from a room several doors down the hall.
Cold sweat sweeps over me as I jerk toward that direction, drawn like a magnet.
I already know what’s happening before a throng of nurses comes rushing down the hall.
