Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 124323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
“But—”
“LEAVE!”
The men in their matching uniforms and polished buttons scampered. An odd sight to see—law enforcement used to being in charge and prosecuting all the rules jumping at my savage command.
I couldn’t see it from their point of view.
Couldn’t know that to them, I was the worst kind of case.
I was a man who’d touched death and hadn’t returned. A man who now waded in graveyards and welcomed power from ghosts. A beast who no longer had any morals or desire to obey the laws of man.
I was distant.
I was unreachable.
Dr Campbell was the one to show me, to dip into my fury-blackened numbness and reveal just how far I’d fallen. “Sullivan, snap out of it. You’re scaring them. And scared police are dangerous police.”
I snatched the finger he dared waggle in my face. “I will ask you again. Is Jess alive?”
He nodded, yanking his hand out of my icy fist. “Barely. I’m still working on her. I need help, Sinclair. I need another doctor.”
“Contact the ruins on Serigala. They’ll send the two vets who weren’t killed.”
“A vet won’t—”
“A vet is all you’ll get.” Pushing off the bed, I snarled as if every predator and monster lived within me.
My legs buckled.
Pain.
Motherfucking mind-deadening pain.
“Sinclair!” Campbell caught me as I plummeted toward the salt-covered tile. He couldn’t hold my bulk, doing his best to slow my trajectory until we both sprawled on the floor. Pika flew around the room, jumpy and unhappy, his chirps echoing off the walls.
“Fuck!” I blinked through the curtain of charred fury, pissed off at my useless body, cracking beneath the time I was losing not chasing Drake. “Fuck!”
“Your leg...” Campbell pushed me away, his hands running over the same thigh with its harpoon-stitched hole. He pushed a new bump, prodded at new heat. “Without an X-ray, I can’t be sure, but I think you’ve fractured your tibia...wait...” He worked his way down my mangled appendage. “Your ankle.” He circled the new swelling, moving his inspection to my foot when I cringed. “And your foot.” He palpitated my toes, each exploration finding pain, pain, motherfucking pain!
“You’re in pieces, Sinclair. Your ankle is fractured, and from what I can feel, at least three metatarsals. You can’t walk. Not with the harpoon hole and—”
I snatched him around the throat, squeezing mercilessly. “Give me another dose of Tritec.”
His eyes flared as his hands wrapped around my wrist, doing his best to get free. “No way.” He gagged as I squeezed harder. “You’ll...die.”
I let him go, shoving him away from me. “Get me the syringe. Don’t make me ask again.”
He coughed and stood, his stare saying everything. “You’re not asking now.”
“You’re right. Get it.”
“You take it and you’re a dead man.”
“I’m a dead man if I don’t.” My fists tightened into boulders. “I’m not leaving her with him. I’m done.”
“Send someone else. You’re in no condition—”
“Tritec, Doctor. Otherwise, I will rip out your goddamn throat. I still owe you for what you caused. You’re a traitor. Your denial is only cementing my need to punish you.”
“Christ, Sinclair.” He backed away. “I told you why I did what—”
“I don’t have fucking time for this!” I tried to stand and howled like an enraged bear. “The needle. Now!”
He tripped and scurried away.
It wasn’t just the police afraid of me.
He was afraid of me.
Everyone was afraid of what they’d salvaged from the sea.
Good.
I no longer wanted to be a man, bound with weakness and feeble, breakable bones.
I wanted to be the creature in the dark, the fable no one uttered, the Grim Reaper swiping the sickle himself.
Fisting the steel frame of the bed, I gritted my teeth and hauled myself upright. Seemed at least one leg remained workable from my dismount out of a flying machine. The other...it would bow to my vengeance or I’d remove it. I was done with deadweight holding me back.
Pika descended on my shoulder, his tweets and panic sounding manic in my ear as he nibbled and head butted my throat.
Campbell took his fucking time raiding the cupboard.
Each minute was a minute that Eleanor was in Drake’s possession.
Each minute he could touch her, hurt her, rape her.
“The syringe!” I held out my hand, sickly sweat pouring down my temples, mixing with sea and sins. “Now.”
He shook his head as his hands continued to rifle through the boxes. “Reconsider, Sinclair. You’ve already had a dose. You don’t know when that will cease working. It might cause cardiac arrest, a stroke, a coma—”
“I’m aware of the risks.” I hopped toward him, spying a pair of crutches resting against the wall. “The needle and a crutch, then you’re free to tend to Jealousy.”
“It goes against my Hippocratic Oath, Sullivan. If I give you another dose, you. Will. Die.”
“And if you don’t give me another dose, you will die.” I cocked my head. “And as much as I want your blood to flow, I need you alive to keep Jess alive.” Fury tried to suck me back, to delete the pain making my head swim, to pull me away from living and return to just watching.