Page 63 of Rage

I clear my throat.“It’s the hospital,” I say, my voice sounding unnaturally loud in the sudden silence.“They need me.”

The reaction is immediate and intense.

“Absolutely not,” Dad says slamming his hand on the table.

“Are you insane?”Caiden demands, jumping to his feet.“With Peterson out there?”

Mason’s grip on my hand tightens painfully.His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the fight ahead.“I have to go,” I say firmly.“People’s lives depend on me being there.”

“Your life depends on you staying here,” Mason counters, his voice low and dangerous.

I turn to face him, meeting his intense gaze.“Mason, I’m a doctor.I took an oath.I can’t just abandon my patients because things are tough.”

“Tough?”he repeats incredulously.“Meadow, there’s a psychopath out there who wants you dead.This isn’t about being tough, it’s about staying alive.”

The room erupts into chaos, everyone talking over each other.I catch snippets of their arguments:

“…can’t let her go alone…”

“…call in sick…”

“…escort her ourselves…”

My temper flares.I slam my hand on the table, the sharp crack silencing the room.

“Enough!”I shout, surprising even myself with the force of my voice.“I am going to that hospital.End of discussion.”

I stand, facing down the sea of worried faces.“I appreciate your concern.All of you.But I won’t live my life in fear.I won’t let Peterson take my purpose from me.”

My eyes find Mason’s, pleading for understanding.“This is who I am.Being a doctor isn’t just my job, it’s my calling.I can’t turn my back on that.Not even for this.”

The silence stretches, taut as a bowstring.Then, surprisingly, it’s my grandfather who speaks up.

“She’s right,” he says gruffly.All eyes turn to him in shock.“Girl’s got a duty.We can’t stop her from doing it.”

He fixes me with a steely gaze.“But you’re not going alone.We’ll set up a rotation.Always have someone watching your back.”

Relief floods through me.I nod, grateful for his support.“Thank you, Grandpa.”

The others start to protest, but Grandpa silences them with a look.“It’s decided,” he says with finality.“Now, who’s taking first shift?”

Mason stands, his expression grim.“I am,” he says, his voice stern and leaving no arguments.

“I love all of you guys, and I know you want to protect me, but sometimes there are just things you have to do,” I tell them, my voice much softer now, the bite gone out of my tone.

I make my way over to my family members, hugging and kissing their cheeks.

“We love you,” Grandma says, patting my hand, so I give her an extra hug.

twelve

Meadow

Mason’s knuckles turn white on the steering wheel.The plastic creaks under his grip.His jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek.The silence in the car is deafening.

I steal glances at him, my stomach churning.His anger radiates from him in waves, filling the small space.I want to reach out, to touch him, but I hold back.

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