Page 58 of Night Shift

Anger and fear gripped me simultaneously, a potent cocktail that had my heart pounding. I couldn’t make sense of these feelings. I’d never been one to get involved with other people’s personal baggage, yet the thought of her being harmed ignited a fierce protectiveness within me. Thumbs flying over the screen, I shot back a message:

Heading there now. Telling Braxton to meet us.

I couldn’t get out of here fast enough, not with Sam in danger, her world turned upside down by violence. The idea of her feeling scared or hurt twisted in my gut like a knife.

After texting Braxton, I grabbed my keys and bolted out the door. The cool night air did nothing to temper the heat of my fury. I jumped into my car, and soon the engine roared to life. My mind raced as I navigated the empty streets. The drive to Sam’s apartment had never felt longer.

It was true that I’d never been one for relationships, always keeping a safe distance from anything that resembled emotional entanglements. But Sam…she was different. She’d slipped past my defenses, awakening a fierce desire to protect, to claim, to cherish. What kind of monsters would do this to her? And why? I had my suspicions. The attempted kidnapping, the ransacking of her apartment—this sounded like the work of a drug lord. The thought of her in danger, possibly at the hands of the Russian mafia, who ran those sorts of operations around here, had me spiraling.

The streets blurred past me as I pushed the car to its limits and ignored every traffic law.

Within minutes, I was screeching to a halt outside her building. The place was already swarming with police cars, lights flashing. I leaped out of the car, barely registering Braxton’s arrival behind me. With laser focus, I scanned the scene, searching for any sign of her.

“We need to find her and make sure she’s safe,” I said to Braxton.

He nodded, his usual jovial demeanor absent. “I’ll check with the officers and see what they know.”

The chaos of the scene, the police tape, the shattered windows of her apartment—all of it felt surreal.

I hurried up to Sam’s apartment and found the door hanging off its hinges. The scene within made my blood run cold. Everything was overturned, smashed, or broken. It was a horrifying mess. A raw, pulsating anger surged through me at the sight of her violated home.

Braxton walked in then. His expression was grim as he took in the scene. Together, we approached the officers on duty. “Hey, guys,” I said, “what are you doing to find out who did this?”

The officers, who were familiar with me from countless hospital emergencies, gave me a nod of recognition.

“Dr. Thorin, we’re doing everything we can,” one of them said. “We’re collecting evidence, sir, taking statements from neighbors and assessing the damage. We’ll do everything we can to investigate and get to the bottom of this.”

“This wasn’t just a random break-in,” I said, clenching my hands at my sides. “She was attacked just a few days ago in the hospital parking lot after her night shift! You need to connect the dots. Someone powerful is after her.”

Braxton placed a hand on my shoulder, a silent plea for me to control my temper. I shook him off, keeping my focus solely on the officers. “You need to protect her. Do more. Can’t you see she’s being targeted?”

The officers exchanged glances, and one of them jotted down some notes. “We’ll follow up on the hospital parking lot incident and see if there’s a link. Can you provide more details about that attack and why you think they might be connected?”

I recounted the event and then told them about Sam’s altercation with her father back in October. “Fucking drug addicts. They’re capable of doing just about anything,” I muttered, mostly to myself. The frustration of feeling helpless, of not being able to shield Sam from harm, was nearly suffocating.

Sam’s world had been turned upside down, her safety shattered. The police would do their job, but I resolved then and there to do whatever it took to protect her, to ensure no more harm would come her way. Whoever was behind this had just declared war, and I was more than ready to fight back. For Sam.

Just as I was wrapping things up with the police, Conan walked through the doorway, followed closely by Sam. Her eyes widened at the sight of her ruined home, and the color drained from her face. Immediately her breaths became shallow and quick.

The moment her knees buckled, Conan was there, wrapping his arms around her in a steady embrace. “I’ve got you,” he said softly, guiding her gently to the ground as a panic attack seized her.

“Sam!” I shouted, rushing to her side. My anger was momentarily quelled by concern for her well-being. “Just breathe, okay? You’re safe.” I kneeled beside them, my professional instincts taking over.

Conan looked up at me, a silent plea in his eyes, and I nodded, understanding the immediate need to focus on Sam. The police officers stepped back, giving us space.

Taking Sam by the arm, I guided her to a kitchen chair, the only one that seemed to have not been destroyed. “Sam, I need you to sit here.” Still shaking, she complied, and I crouched in front of her. “Now, lean forward, head between your knees. It’ll help; trust me.”

While she did that, I scanned the kitchen and spotted a bag on the counter. Grabbing it, I returned to her side and held the bag open. “Breathe into this, slow breaths,” I said, demonstrating the pace. “In and out, nice and steady.”

As she followed my instructions, I placed a hand on her back, tenderly rubbing small, soothing circles.

“Everyone, out!” I ordered. “She needs a minute to recover.”

“We’ll step outside, give you some privacy,” one officer quickly offered.

Everyone, including my brothers, filed out of the apartment, leaving just the two of us. I laid my hand on her shoulder and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“Atticus,” she choked out between breaths. “Why would anyone do this? I don’t understand.”

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