Page 69 of Crystal Wrath
The door clicks shut behind me. I turn, and the world narrows to the small black pistol now aimed directly at my chest. The metal gleams dully under the overhead light, and I can see her finger resting on the trigger with the casual familiarity of someone who's done this before.
“Don't scream,” she states calmly, her voice devoid of any emotion. “I won't miss.”
I stare at her, my pulse rocketing into my throat, and the sound of my heartbeat suddenly deafening in the small space. Everything I thought I knew about this moment, about this person, reshapes itself around the reality of the weapon pointed at me.
“You're not…” my voice shakes despite my efforts to control it, “you're not a nurse.”
Her smile is small and sharp, as if she enjoys being underestimated. “No, sweetheart. I'm a solution.”
The gun doesn't waver in her grip. She motions for me to step back toward the far wall, and I comply, my mind racing through possibilities that all seem dead-end in the barrel of her pistol.The utility room suddenly feels impossibly small, the walls pressing in like the inside of a coffin.
“What do you want?” I ask, fighting to keep my voice even despite the terror clawing at my chest. My eyes flick to the side, searching for anything I can use as a weapon or distraction. A cart loaded with cleaning supplies sits within arm's reach. A cabinet door hangs slightly ajar. A stack of folded towels perches precariously on a metal shelf. Anything that might give me an advantage, however small.
“I want you to come with me. Quietly. No heroics. Mr. Bennato would like a word.”
The name hits me like ice water. Of course, this connects back to him. Of course, Nick's attack, the destruction of the newsroom, and everything that has been happening leads back to the man who sees this city as his personal chessboard.
“You can tell Bennato to go to hell,” I hiss.
Her smile widens slightly, and I can see genuine amusement in her dark eyes. “He told me you'd respond this way.”
I lunge forward without thinking, adrenaline overriding every instinct for self-preservation. My hand slams the tray on the nearby counter, sending it flying, and medical supplies scatter across the floor in a cacophony of clattering metal and plastic. The gun clatters to the tile between us, spinning once before coming to rest near the base of the cabinet.
We both dive for it.
Her elbow slams into my ribs with brutal precision, and I gasp, stars exploding across my vision. We grapple frantically, thrashing across the tiny room, crashing into the wall, the metalcart, and the side of the sink. Her fingers claw at my wrists while mine grab a handful of her hair, pulling hard enough to make her yelp. She headbutts me, and I see genuine stars this time, my vision going white around the edges.
But I find the gun first. I get my fingers wrapped around the grip just as she tackles me from behind. Her weight slams into my back, and we hit the floor hard, my head bouncing against the unforgiving tile with a sound that reverberates through my skull. The pistol is trapped between us, cold metal pressing against my ribs as we struggle for control.
We both fight desperately for dominance, rolling across the floor, her fingernails raking across my arms as I try to angle the weapon away from both of us. She's stronger than she looks, her grip on my wrist like iron, but desperation gives me strength I didn't know I possessed.
Then the gun goes off.
BANG.
The sound explodes in the small space, impossibly loud, echoing off the walls and ceiling until it becomes the only thing that exists in the universe. The air goes completely still. My ears ring with a high-pitched whine that drowns out everything else. My breath won't come, and my lungs refuse to function properly.
The room tilts sideways, gravity becoming negotiable. Pain blooms in my head, sharp and insistent. Everything feels disconnected and fractured, like pieces of a puzzle that no longer fit together properly.
I try to open my eyes, but the world blurs at the edges. The taste of copper floods my mouth, but I don't know if I've bitten my tongue in the struggle or if something worse has happened. Mylimbs feel heavy and unresponsive, and darkness creeps in from the periphery of my vision like spilled ink across paper.
And then the world goes black, swallowing everything whole.
