Page 154 of SINS & Riley
Nothing. Not one fucking reaction from Doctor of the Year. Shocker.
I groan again, louder this time, curling forward. Close.
I can almost reach it—the scalpel glinting on the tray.
“Shut up!” he snaps.
My fingers brush the handle, but I need to bend just a little further. I make it as convincing as I can.
“Argh!”
He whirls, hand raised, ready to slap me. “I told you to shut up.”
My fingers clamp the scalpel, and I drive it straight into his other hand. He’s nearly useless now—one hand mummified in bandages, the other skewered clean through, like a vampire staked through the heart.
Unfortunately, he still has his mouth. He cries out, “Hey?—”
I cram gauze between his teeth, then slap the anesthesia mask over his face.
One minute.
That’s all it takes before he’s out cold.
I bolt for the door, fingers on the handle—when her voice slices through.
“Everything all right in there?”
Shit.
Silence.
Then, I drop my voice so low it sounds like my balls just dropped. “Fuck off.”
I hold my breath.
Nothing.
I stand frozen. Beyond this door—two massive guards and psycho bitch.
Slowly, quietly, I flip the lock and creep toward the sliver of a window.
It’s high up. Narrow. And impossibly small.
But it’s my only shot.
I drag a heavy chair across the floor, the steel legs shrieking against the linoleum like a goddamn siren.
“What’s going on in there?” Elena calls.
I ignore her and climb onto the chair. The latch clicks easy, but when I peer out, my shoulders sink.
From this side of the building, we’re two stories up.
Too fucking floors.
The doctor starts to stir.
And then I see it—pure terror seizes me as he clamps his teeth around the scalpel jutting from his hand.
