Page 31 of Rage

“Brought you some of that pasta you like,” Mason says, holding up the bag.“Figured you could use some fuel.”

“You’re amazing,” I sigh gratefully, taking the container.“I’m starving.”

We settle on a nearby bench, the food warm between us.As I dig in, savoring each bite, Mason’s hand finds mine.His thumb traces circles on my palm.

“Rough night?”he asks, his voice gentle.

I nod, swallowing a mouthful of pasta.“Emergency C-section earlier.Mom and baby are okay, but it was touch-and-go for a while.”

Mason squeezes my hand.“You’re incredible, you know that?Saving lives every day.”

I feel my cheeks flush at the pride in his voice.“Just doing my job,” I mumble.

“Nah,” Mason shakes his head, “it’s more than that.It’s who you are.”

Our eyes meet, and suddenly the air between us feels charged.Mason leans in, his lips brushing mine in a soft kiss.I sigh into it, feeling some of the tension melt from my shoulders.

All too soon, my pager buzzes.Reality intrudes once more.I pull back reluctantly, already missing his warmth.

“Duty calls,” I say with a rueful smile.

Mason nods, understanding in his eyes.“Go be a hero, darlin’.I’ll be here when you’re done.”

I drop my leftovers into the break room on the way to the ER, then I open my iPad and study my charts, seeing a name on the screen that takes my breath away.

Mrs.Peterson

The notes say that the ambulance brought her in after someone found her unconscious in front of her house.There’s a shortage of staff tonight at the ER, hence I’ve been temporarily pulled away from my department.

I swallow hard, bracing myself for whatever is going to happen.

As I approach the ER bay, my heart pounds in my chest.The curtain is drawn, but I can hear the frantic beeping of monitors and urgent voices behind it.I steel myself and step inside.

The sight that greets me makes my blood run cold.Mrs.Peterson lies on the gurney, barely recognizable beneath the bruises and swelling.Her left eye is swollen shut, a purple hematoma blooming across her cheekbone.Dried blood cakes her split lip and nostrils.

As my eyes travel down her body, I notice the odd angle of her right arm—it’s clearly broken.Her clothes are torn and dirty, as if she’s been in a struggle.Dark bruises in the shape of handprints mar her throat and wrists.

“What happened?”I demand, snapping on gloves as I approach the bedside.

The ER nurse, Sarah, looks up with grim eyes.“Found unconscious on her front lawn by a neighbor.Obvious signs of severe beating and…” She hesitates, lowering her voice.“Sexual assault.”

My stomach lurches.I force myself to remain professional as I begin my examination, but inside I’m reeling.Who could have done this?The obvious suspect springs to mind, but I push the thought away.I can’t jump to conclusions.

Mrs.Peterson’s grip on my arm tightens, her nails digging into my skin.Her eyes, wide with terror, lock on to mine.The monitors beep frantically, matching the frantic rhythm of my heart.

“David,” she chokes out.“He… he did this.”

My stomach lurches.David Peterson.Her husband.The man who’d made my life hell for months.

“Mrs.Peterson,” I say, keeping my voice steady.“I need you to tell me exactly what happened.”

She flinches, her gaze darting around the room as if expecting him to materialize at any moment.“He was waiting when I got home.Said I ruined everything.That I should have kept my mouth shut.I was called into the board for an interview, and I decided to tell the truth of what he was.”She stops talking, her lips trembling.“A monster.”

Bile rises in my throat.I swallow hard, forcing myself to focus.“Did he say anything else?”

Mrs.Peterson’s breath hitches.A tear slides down her bruised cheek.“He said… he said this was just the beginning.That he’d make us all pay.”

A chill runs down my spine.Us all.Who else was he targeting?

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