Page 6 of Beautiful Scars: Unshakeable

My phone vibrates—Colt giving me an update about a potential lead. I read it twice, my mind already putting together scenarios, trying to figure out the best way to handle it. It's easier than thinking about where Sunny might be right now, what might be happening to her.

A crash, followed by a long list of curses from Rex's room startles me. A slight smile curls my lips. He’s always been a little dramatic. The doctor hurries back in. I stay where I am, standing guard, because it's what I do. What I've always done. But for the first time in my life, I know it's not nearly enough.

After a few minutes the girl with long brown hair, now dressed in a hospital gown, is wheeled past me and down the hall. Probably headed for tests. This time her eyes flick up and meet mine for a brief moment. The fear, the pain—it's etched into every part of her face. I grit my teeth knowing, with devastating certainty, that somewhere Sunny's wearing a similar expression. And I'm not there to stop it.

I pull out my phone again, checking to see if I have any messages from Levi. If he doesn't manage to pull himself together, Colt and I are going to have to think of something to do with him. His guilt and rage aren't what we need right now.

I shift my weight against the wall, muscles tense from standing so long. The hospital's weekend night shift brings a different kind of energy. It's busy, chaotic. Conversations that should be private, are brought out into the hallways, spoken loud enough to be overheard.

"Third time this month." The nurse's voice carries from behind the station where she’s rifling through stacks of paper.Her voice is low, but clear. "It's the same guy. He's escalating with her."

The security guard leans against the counter, his posture casual but his eyes alert. "At least she agreed to press charges this time and get the restraining order."

"Won't matter." The nurse, E. Martinez, according to the badge around her neck, shakes her head. "I'm calling for an extraction. Tonight."

My spine straightens at that word. Extraction. Military term. Special ops. Not something anyone would expect to hear in a hospital like this.

"I'll make the call." A second nurse, older, with steel-gray hair, reaches for the phone.

I pretend to check my own phone, angling my body closer to the counter in an effort to catch more of their conversation.

"Yeah, we have another candidate for you." Gray Hair's voice drops an octave as she speaks into the phone. "She meets all the criteria. Multiple documented incidents, escalating violence. She's here by herself."

There's a pause as she listens. "No, no friends or family requested or present, no emergency contact listed on any of the paperwork for any of her visits."

The security guard shifts, blocking the hallway's view of the nurse's station. It's not a random movement. It's purposeful.

"It's time sensitive. Paperwork’s been filed." Gray Hair continues. "Standard packaging needed, no special care necessary."

My mind races, cataloging details. The positioning. The terminology. The efficiency. What the fuck is going on?

"Right. Thank you." She hangs up and turns to the security guard. "Finder’s fee for this one will be the same as always."

Finder’s fee. That's the missing piece I need for my brain to start connecting all the dots even though I wish itwouldn't. Sunny's file from the safehouse. The photos. Garrett's surveillance that had somehow reached into her hospital room.

The guard nods once, sharp and professional. "Once she's discharged and ready to go, I'll take care of the cameras on the loading dock."

E. Martinez busies herself with paperwork, smiling and humming.

My phone buzzes—Colt again. I don’t answer. I can't look away from the nurses' station.

The brown-haired girl appears again, wheelchair guided by an orderly on the return trip to her room. She meets my gaze, and this time I see something different in her expression. The fear is gone—replaced with a quiet resignation. I don't know which is worse to see. Her expression is eerily similar to the one on Sunny's face in those stacks of surveillance photos. Like whatever's happening is inevitable. Unpreventable.

Meets all criteria. No friends. No family.

Rex's door opens. The doctor steps out, clipboard in hand. "Arm looks good. No issues with the casting. It'll be just a little longer while we wait for the sedation to take effect to get that nose set."

He follows my gaze across the hallway to where the girl in the wheelchair disappears into her room. "Falling down the stairs seems to be the night's entertainment."

I nod, ignoring the doctor's questioning look, but my attention stays split. The nurses have dispersed, moving with efficient purpose. The security guard posts himself by the emergency exit, radio silent.

"Mr. Walsh?" The doctor waits for my focus. "We'll need some paperwork filled out."

"Of course." I follow him to the desk, keeping both the security guard and nurses in view.

How many other "candidates" have been extracted into whatever system these people are running? How many women have disappeared into a situation worse than whatever brought them here?

The pieces continue to shift and slide into place. A hospital would be the perfect cover for a variety of enterprises. Especially a network. A system for moving people from place to place. Especially women who are vulnerable and in need of protection. Women who could somehow vanish into new lives without many, if any, people missing them.

---