Page 112 of Sinner's Sacrifice

“I can walk,” she said.

“Oh, but please, you’re hurt,” the woman said with more concern than was warranted. Her gaze darted over Sam’s face and neck. Cataloging all the blood.

Sam made sure to make eye contact with the woman, then gestured at her upper torso and neck with her left hand. “None of this is mine,” she said slowly.

The woman’s shoulders relaxed a little. “The doctor wishes to see you, to ensure you took no injuries.”

Just the man she wanted to see. “Good, I want to see him as well.”

The woman sighed in obvious relief. “Of course, we can walk,” she said, leading the way.

They were trailed by three more staff members who all looked at her with wide eyes and happy smiles. As if she were some kind of celebrity or something.

Every person they passed looked at her the same way.

What the hell kind of Kool-Aid were they drinking in this place?

They entered an elevator and went down a few floors. The room she was led to was part office, part lab. It had a large desk covered in neat piles of papers with an older computer.

There was also a long slim table with a couple of microscopes on it.

“The doctor is on his way,” the woman said with a smile.

“Oh, um, wait,” Sam said. “After I’ve talked with the doctor, I’d like to see Yvgeny...if that’s okay.”

She couldn’t say body, she couldn’t. Not yet. Not until she’d purged some of the rage burning her insides. “Will you wait for me?”

The woman’s smile gained a few watts. “I would be happy to.” She left the room, closing the door behind her.

Sam stared at the door and shook her head. Everyone who worked here was fucking bonkers.

She thought about sitting in the visitor’s chair, but she was still covered in blood that was wet and sticky.

She thought about what she would say to the doctor. Yvgeny had said the man had told some people about her and her supposedly special genes. None of this fiasco would have happened if he’d kept his lips zipped.

Yvgeny would still be alive if he’d behaved like a physician should.

A few moments later, the doctor entered the room, his happy expression lighting up even more when he saw her.

“Miss Samantha,” he said excitedly, then he seemed to realize she was covered in blood, and came crashing to a stop. “Did you receive any injuries?”

“No,” she said. “Everyone else did, but not me.”

“Good,” he wrinkled his nose. “You do need to be cleaned up, though. One of my staff members will assist you. Once you’re done, I have some questions for you.”

“Actually,” she said, looking at her dirt and blood covered shoes. “I have a couple of questions for you.”

“Excellent,” he clapped his hands together, like a five-year old. “I look forward to our conversation.”

She moved toward him. “I’d like to ask you something now, if you don’t mind.”

He smiled benevolently at her. “Of course.”

She stepped closer. “Who did you tell about my genetic test results?”

His smile dimmed a bit. “Did anyone explain them to you?”

“Not really, just that whatever I’ve got in my DNA might cure a longstanding problem.”

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