Page 94 of Vicious

Baba and the doctor wrestle with each other, until Baba kicks her in the stomach. She cries out, and the scalpel drops to the floor with a loud clatter.

“You fucking—” the doctor starts, but Baba pushes her back with more force than I thought he had. She cries out and falls to the floor halfway across the room.

“Leave my daughter alone!” Baba growls. He immediately turns to undo one of my wrist bindings.

“Baba…” I start.

“Later,” Baba says. “We have to get out of here.” Once the one wrist is free, he moves to my legs. I twist to undo the binding on my other wrist.

Pain continues to race through me each time I move, and I grimace as I narrowly avoid touching the wound. The last thing I need is for it to get infected, I think dizzily—like I actually have a chance to live and get an infection to begin with.

“Jake! Jake!” the doctor shouts, but again, nobody comes.

In fact, we hear more of those sounds in the distance.

My abdomen is covered in blood, but I don’t stop until Baba and I have freed my body completely of the bindings.

It’s only then that I let out a sob of relief, but I don’t have time to take it in.

“Grab the scalpel,” I tell Baba, grimacing as I sit up. Fuck, it hurts, but it’s pain I can take. Chase made sure I’d learned how to handle it. Even though this is far from pleasurable pain—even though it’s damn near agony—I can keep moving. I look for bandages, and I find a lone roll in her doctor’s kit.

It’s even clearer that they weren’t going to close up and bandage the wounds because there’s next to nothing I could use. I dig deeper into the bag, coming out with a first aid kit that looks like it’s never been opened.

I get it open, and with Baba’s help, we bandage the wound as much as we can. I don’t know if I’m dizzy from blood loss or adrenaline or both, but I ignore it.

“That’s gun shots,” I say after another moment. “Baba…”

I hardly dare believe it, but I recognize the sounds from TV and movies. They’re dull, distant, from the other side of the door, but it means someone’s here.

It means there’s reason to hope for the first time since Jake took me.

“You won’t escape,” the doctor says from where she’s cowering at the other end of the room. “There are at least ten guys guarding this place.”

“Chances are you won’t leave here either,” I tell her. “Who do you think is crazy enough to attack an organization like this, anyway?”

Maybe it’s a raid, or maybe it’s a rival “supplier,” or maybe it’s something entirely different. I might still die, but I’m going to die in the clothes I grab from the floor and not naked on a table.

“Baba, are you okay?” I ask him after I have my shirt on.

God, moving sucks, but I don’t have time to stand still like a sitting duck.

“Me? You’re the one who got…” Baba gives me a sad look. “I told you, I’m going to take care of you.” He extends his hand to me. “Come on, we have to get out of here. Before people return.”

“Stay out of our way,” I tell the doctor. I grab the scalpel from the floor and her entire medicine bag so she can’t find something to attack us with. I head to the door, wincing with every step and trying to ignore the fact that I am really, really fucking terrified.

She holds her hands up in surrender. “You still won’t make it out of here.”

“Yeah, well. Dying out there is preferable to dying in here to you,” I say, hobbling to the door.

Baba stops me from grabbing the handle, and I stand back as he opens it a crack. When he swings it open, I breathe a sigh of relief when I see that the hallway is empty.

“See? I knew luck would come our way,” Baba says, although his voice wavers.

I shake my head and cautiously exit the room. “Speaking of luck. How did you get free of the cuffs?”

Baba laughs. “When you were struggling against them, one of the guys dropped the keys. I managed to slide them to my hands and unlock the cuffs. I just had to wait for the right moment.”

I press a hand against the bandage, and it comes away red. Great. I need to get to the hospital. I don’t think I’m going to bleed to death, but moving around and stretching out the cuts can’t be helping. “You did good,” I say softly. “Proud of you, Baba.”

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