Page 5 of Unchained

But he’d threatened her.

She squeezed her eyes shut as tears flowed down her cheeks. His chart had said he was paranoid. Delusional. Of course he’d say wild things and try to hurt her—that’s why he was strapped down. But something vulnerable had shone in his eyes despite the hate he’d spewed. Almost as if he didn’t like himself.

Guilt. He exuded guilt and fury.

She forced her heart rate to slow. As much as she wanted to run screaming from the room, she couldn’t. He had wounds that needed to be cleaned before they got infected. She looked up at the clock—she’d injected him five minutes late. As long as she didn’t make the same mistake next time, she likely wouldn’t see him awake.

Except when she got switched to the day shift. Maybe by then he’d be in a better state. She glanced down at her wrist. A red ring circled the skin, but he hadn’t hurt her. He’d been close, though. Something had stopped him from snapping her arm. Despite having just woken from sedation, he’d had unusual strength. She lowered her hand and went to the cupboard above the sink to retrieve some antiseptic. She quickly cleaned the gashes on his stomach—what the hell had caused him to cut himself there? She made a mental note to pull Jen aside. Or maybe another nurse would be more open about what went on here. After bandaging the cuts on his midsection, she attended to the minor ones on his face. His eyelids flickered, and a stab of guilt hit her.

She’d forced him into a comatose state with medication. It felt wrong. But if she hadn’t, he might have broken her wrist. Coughing away the emotion that clogged her throat, she dabbed the scratches on his face but didn’t bother covering them.

Camryn moved to the cupboard under the sink and found a thicker blanket. She covered him to his chin then turned out the light and exited the room. A weight crushed down on her chest. Scanning the floor, she studied each busy, bustling caregiver. A young redhead passed her. Camryn caught her elbow.

The woman jumped. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” Camryn said, wringing her hands in front of her. “I’m new. I wondered if you could answer some questions.”

She smiled and popped out her hip. Her bright pink top with yellow butterflies was almost too cheery for this hole in the floor. “Sure thing. I’m Kate.”

Camryn measured her words. “Camryn. The patient in thirty-six—are you familiar with him?”

Kate pushed her tongue to the inside of her cheek. “Not really. I roll him to his room at 6:00 a.m. before he wakes up. He’s a hottie, though,” she said, bobbing her eyebrows.

Yeah, the dude was ripped and every girl’s bad-boy dream, minus the straps and sedation. “He’s really beat up. Filthy, too. Do you know what happened?”

Kate’s eyes widened. “Oh, he must have been the patient who escaped last night. Ugh. That sucks.” She scrubbed her forehead with the back of her hand.

“Why does it suck?”

Kate swept her gaze to the floor then leaned in close. “Three guards were murdered last night. One had his neck snapped. And Jose’s ribs were broken so severely his lungs were punctured and they couldn’t save him.” She sent a wary gaze to thirty-six’s door. “That dude’s a savage. Be careful.” She turned on her heel and waltzed into another patient’s room.

Savage.

Of course he’s a savage. He’d nearly torn her arm off . . . and yet he’d held back. She sucked in a breath and moved on to the next patient. It was going to be a long night.

Ten hours later, Camryn leaned against a wall and stretched her neck from side to side. Her body buzzed with confusion, her brain long since conditioned to sleep between the hours she’d just worked, but somehow she was still standing.

The rest of the patients hadn’t been in unusual shape. Half of them were suffering from delusions, and weak. There were some who’d recently had limbs amputated, and others recuperating from traumatic head wounds. Asking questions wasn’t an option when they were so heavily medicated or couldn’t hang on to reality longer than the time it took to smile fleetingly.

Oddly enough, the brute in thirty-six was more coherent than any other patient.

“Just about done,” Kate sang, as she sauntered past.

How the woman kept a smile glued to her face when working a twelve-hour night shift underground was almost creepy.

Camryn blew an exaggerated breath through her lips. “I’m ready for bed. What are you doing now?”

Kate made a face. “Paperwork. At least I got to roll hottie in thirty-six to his room.”

“Where’s that? I haven’t seen any floors beyond this one and the main floor.” She shouldn’t ask questions. Shouldn’t tease herself with the knowledge of where he’d be awake. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, go to him . . .

“He’s on nine,” Kate said, nodding at the floor. “Don’t worry, you’ll get to see him again tonight.” She winked suggestively and made a beeline for one of the triage desks.

Temptation pulled at her. A glance at the clock on the wall showed it was 6:58 a.m. She scooped up her purse and made her way to the elevator.

Don’t do it, Cam. Don’t do it.

She entered the elevator, stuck the metal key in the slot, and turned it. Her thumb hovered over the button marked with an M. She rubbed the pad of her thumb on a fingertip and quickly pushed 9. The doors slammed shut. She jumped and clung to the metal rail as the elevator descended two stories.

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