Page 35 of Rage

As we are about to leave, a blood-curdling scream pierces the air.The sound echoes through the hallway, sending chills down my spine.Mason’s arm tightens around me instinctively.

“What the hell?”Konrad mutters, his head snapping toward the source of the commotion.

Another scream follows, this time accompanied by panicked shouts and the thundering of footsteps.A nurse rounds the corner at full sprint, her face pale with terror.

“He’s loose!”she cries, her voice cracking with fear.“Peterson stabbed an officer and got away!”

My blood runs cold.The world seems to tilt on its axis, the fluorescent lights suddenly too bright, too harsh.I feel Mason stiffen beside me, his muscles coiling like a predator ready to strike.

“Where?”he demands, his voice low and dangerous.

The nurse points a shaking finger down the hallway.“H-headed toward the stairwell.Oh God, there was so much blood…”

Before anyone can react, Mason is moving.He gently but firmly pushes me toward Konrad.“Get her somewhere safe,” he tells him.“Lock the door.Don’t open it for anyone but me.”

“Mason, no!”I reach for him, but he’s already striding away, his posture radiating lethal intent.“Please, be careful!”

Mason pauses, his eyes locking with mine.For a heartbeat, I see the man beneath the storm, the one who held me close and promised to keep me safe.Then it’s gone, replaced by cold determination.He vanishes around the corner, the sound of his heavy boots fading rapidly.

Konrad’s grip on my arm tightens.“Come on,” he urges, pulling me toward a nearby exam room.

The lock clicks behind us.I press my face against the small window, watching uniforms blur past.Radios crackle.Shouts echo down the hallway.

“Fuck,” Konrad mutters.He runs a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end.“How did that bastard get loose?”

I shake my head, unable to form words.My knees buckle.Konrad picks me up, easing me onto the exam table.

“Let me see that cut,” he says, gently lifting my scrub top, and all I can do is stare at the door Mason just left through.

* * *

MASON

It goes against everything inside of me to leave her injured, but that fucker can’t get away.

I stalk down the hallway, my senses on high alert.The hospital’s sterile scent is tainted with the metallic tang of blood.My boots echo on the linoleum, each step fueled by rage and purpose.Peterson.That fucking coward.He’s not getting away this time.

A nurse points me toward the stairwell, her eyes wide with fear.I nod grimly, pushing through the heavy door.The stairwell is dimly lit, shadows lurking in every corner.I pause, listening.A clatter of footsteps above me.Got you, you son of a bitch.

I take the stairs two at a time, my muscles burning with exertion.Adrenaline courses through my veins, sharpening my focus.Images of Meadow’s bruised and bloodied form flash through my mind, stoking the fire in my gut.This ends now.

I run onto the next floor, scanning the hallway.A trail of blood droplets catches my eye.My lips curl into a predatory grin.You can run, Peterson, but you can’t hide.

Following the trail, I round the corner.A flash of movement at the far end of the corridor.Peterson, limping badly, one hand pressed to his side.He glances back, his eyes widening in terror as he spots me.

“It’s over, you piece of shit!”I roar, sprinting toward him.

Peterson stumbles, crashing into a supply cart.Medical supplies scatter across the floor.He scrambles to his feet, desperation lending him speed.He throws himself at the elevator doors, jabbing frantically at the buttons.

I’m halfway down the hall when the elevator dings.The doors slide open.Peterson lunges inside, hammering at the close button.Our eyes lock as the doors begin to shut.The look on his face is one of pure, animal fear.

“No!”I snarl, diving for the closing gap.

My fingers brush the edge of the doors just as they close.I slam my fist against the metal, frustration and rage boiling over.“Fuck!”

I spin around, searching for the stairs.Can’t let this bastard get away.The image of Meadow’s terrified face as Peterson held that scalpel to her throat flashes through my mind.My hands clench into fists, knuckles white.

I find the stairwell, taking the steps three at a time.My lungs burn, muscles screaming in protest.But I push through the pain, driven by a singular purpose.

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