Page 28 of Shadows of Recovery

Ryan groaned in response, barely able to lift his head. Sophie immediately set to work, helping the nursing staff get him into a hospital gown. She noticed the haunted look in his eyes, confusion exacerbated by the alcohol.

“Let’s get you comfortable.” She confiscated his clothing and phone to ensure he couldn’t harm himself or leave. The nurses she worked with moved efficiently.

Once Ryan was settled, Sophie double-checked that he was stable. His vital signs were monitored closely, bloodwork was drawn and an IV was set up to help flush the alcohol from his system. Satisfied he was safe for the moment, she stepped out of the room, leaving a nurse at his side.

In the break room, Sophie made herself a cup of tea. She took a deep breath, trying to dispel the lingering scent of gin from her senses. Her gut told her it was likely the alcohol that put him over the emotional edge.

Her mind wandered to one of her instructor’s lessons from years ago. She realized empathy wasn’t just about understanding a patient’s pain but also about managing her own responses to their suffering. That was one of Tristan’s greatest abilities.

She finished her tea, hoping Ryan’s bloodwork would be ready to reassess his alcohol levels. For the rest of the morning, she and the nurses would keep watch, monitoring him. Once he was sober, she would arrange for a psychiatrist from the Blackwell Institute to see him, and she’d make sure he and his parents were connected with resources for ongoing support.

The department was quiet in the early hour and blustery cold weather.Sophie had the rare opportunity to catch up on other material. The phone every nurse and doctor wore in the department buzzed, indicating she had another patient. As she readied to step into the next patient's room, her senses were assaulted by an unexpected sound—the unmistakable roar of motorcycles and the smell of gasoline.

Sophie paused, trying to make sense of everything. Why were there motorcycles inside the hospital?

She was headed to investigate when the door to her office suddenly burst open. She looked up, startled to see Damon Whitlock standing there, a menacing grin on his face. Those eyes held a cold, calculating gaze that sent a shiver down her spine. The sharp lines of his face only added to the harshness of his expression. His lips, pressed into a thin, unforgiving line, showed no trace of warmth or compassion. Dressed in black leathers, he took on the ethereal shape of a dementor fromHarry Potter, only one wielding a gun.

Behind him was a group of rough-looking individuals. With Damon’s nod, the heavily armed and masked men began filtering into the hospital. Judging by the cries and screams Sophie heard, they were quickly taking control.

"Hello, Sophie. Miss me?" Damon’s voice made her feel like ice was dripping down her back.

Fear gripped her heart as she recognized him. She tried to keep her voice steady, but it trembled with fear. "Damon, what are you doing here? You need to leave before things get worse for you."

Damon stepped closer. "Things can’t get worse for me, Sophie. But they can definitely get worse for you and everyone else here."

Before she could react, Damon lunged forward, grabbing her ponytail and dragging her out of the office. Sophie's heart pounded in her chest, each beat reverberating in her ears as the cold, unyielding barrel of the gun pressed into her side.

A wave of fear washed over her, mingling with a sharp, visceral awareness of her own vulnerability. The metal felt impossibly cold against her skin, a stark contrast to the heat of her racing pulse. Every instinct screamed at her to move, to fight back, but the situation anchored her in place, her breath coming in shallow, rapid bursts.

She forced herself to stay calm, knowing that any sudden movement could trigger a deadly response. The heavy presence of the gun was an inescapable reminder that, for now, her only option was compliance.

Damon stormed into the quiet ER, dragging Sophie with him. The sight of the gun sent patients, their families and staff into a panic. He fired a shot into the air, the deafening sound bringing immediate silence. Two men with assault-style rifles took up a place at each door.

Damon yelled, "Everyone, listen up! I’m in charge now. If you want to stay alive, you’ll do exactly as I say!"

Nurses and the junior doctors froze, their faces pale with fear. Damon pushed Sophie to the floor and stood over her, his boot between her shoulders and the gun aimed at her head. "Sophie here is my insurance policy. Anyone tries anything, and she gets it first."

Head Nurse Sarah Franklin, despite trembling, managed to say, "Please don’t hurt her. We’ll do whatever you want."

Damon waved the gun, still with one foot on Sophie. "Good. First, everyone’s phones. Now!"

One of his men, carrying a patient belongings bag, moved through the curtained cubicles. Staff, patients and family members reluctantly handed over their phones, which Damon smashed under his boot beside Sophie’s head. Shards of flying plastic peppered her face.

From where she was lying, she could see one of his people move into the locker room. Suddenly, she heard a pop, and then the room exploded. The blast rocked through her, but the fire was contained by the cement tile walls, burning itself out.

Smoke dissipated. Any phone in there and anything else, for that matter, was destroyed.

Sophie watched, her heart refusing to slow, pounding with terror as Damon’s henchmen moved with cold precision, controlling each curtained room with the threat of a gun.

Pushing aside her initial shock, she focused on keeping her breaths even. As she lay on the floor, she heard an unmistakable sound—a bullet being racked into a gun’s chamber.

Is Damon going to kill?

Damon stepped off her back and proceeded to the nurses’ station, where he yanked all the phones off the hook and unplugged all the computers and monitors.

Dr. Parmar, the second attending ER physician for the shift, appeared, humming a tune, his footsteps echoing down the corridor, unaware of the current circumstances. He was returning from taking a patient to the ICU.

Sophie's voice stalled in her throat as she tried to warn him, but it was too late. In a swift and merciless motion, Damon turned his gun on Dr. Parmar, his expression devoid of remorse as he ended the life of the unsuspecting doctor with a single brutal shot.

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