Page 78 of Glitter Rose
She ties the tourniquet around my upper arm with cold fingers. But when she prepares the needle, the angle is different—the illusion of insertion without actually breaking skin.
Knox stands by the door, arms crossed, every inch the dutiful guard. But his eyes never leave me, tracking Min-ji’s movements with laser focus.
“Almost done.” She pretends to switch vials. “Just three more.”
The charade continues, Min-ji going through the motions while collecting nothing. My arm remains unpunctured, though to anyone sneaking a glance through the lab’s windows, it would appear to be business as usual.
When she’s ‘finished,’ she removes the tourniquet and reaches for a cotton ball and adhesive bandage.
“Keep pressure on that.” She holds the cotton against my nonexistent puncture wound and places with her other hand something into my palm. “Just in case.”
I close my fingers around a small, razor-sharp blade wrapped in a thin strip of cloth and hide it in my sleeve. I wish we could have spoken freely and gotten to know each other better.
“All set.” She steps back, stripping off her gloves. “She’s all yours, Officer.”
“Thank you, Dr. Cho.” Knox opens the door, gesturing for me to exit first. “Let’s go.”
I stand, legs steady, and follow him into the hallway. But instead of turning right toward my room, he steers me left, deeper into the research building.
This is normal. I always walk here.
We pass lab techs, researchers hunched over microscopes,and guards stationed at intervals. Each face sends a fresh spike of anxiety through my chest.
Do they know? Can they tell we’re escaping?
A researcher in thick glasses peers up as we pass, frowning. “Jones? Isn’t she supposed to be in containment?”
“Special testing,” Knox says. “Green’s orders.”
The lie rolls off his tongue so easily that even I almost believe it. The researcher hesitates, then nods, returning to his work.
“Nice,” I murmur once we’re past him.
“Thanks,” Knox says under his breath. “Turn left here.”
We navigate a maze of corridors, steadily cutting the distance to the building’s eastern exit. My heartbeat hasn’t slowed since we left my room, and the blade against my wrist is a constant reminder of what might go wrong.
Outside, the cool and damp morning air hits my face. The compound stretches before us, buildings dotted across the hillside. We weave between them, Knox’s hand occasionally brushing mine, guiding me without words.
“Here.” He stops at the corner of a shed, peering around the edge to check for patrols. “Clear.”
The eastern fence waits ahead, a section partially obscured by overgrown bushes and weeds. No guards visible, but my nerves jangle with each little sound.
“Now what?” I ask.
He checks his watch. “We wait. Two minutes.”
One hundred and twenty seconds between captivity and freedom. Between being Gabriel’s lab rat and being Paris again. I count my heartbeats, each one a tick closer to escape.
“Thirty seconds,” he whispers.
My fingers drift to the ring in my pocket, touching it for reassurance. “What if it doesn’t work? What if?—”
“It will.” His hand finds mine. “Trust me.”
I scan our surroundings. No one nearby. Just the quiet morning and distant voices from the main compound.
“Ten. Nine. Eight…”
