Chapter 84 Closer Than You Think
Cayden's eyes locked onto the nurse standing too close to Emilia's IV. His brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face before hardening into suspicion. The sterile scent of antiseptic clung to the air, but beneath it, something metallic—blood—pricked at his senses.
His body tensed, muscles coiling as if ready to pounce.
Zoey's heart slammed against her ribs. Think fast.
She straightened, fingers tightening around the small vial still clutched in her palm. The cold glass pressed against her skin, grounding her in the moment. Slowly, a calculated smile curled her lips as she turned toward Cayden.
Cayden didn't move. His broad frame filled the doorway, a wall of pure, immovable force.
Trapped.
Her pulse pounded in her ears. She could lie; she could manipulate—but Cayden wasn't an idiot. Worse, he was Henry's right-hand man. Loyal. Protective. A problem.
She needed an out. Now.
The room was too quiet. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. Emilia's slow, steady breaths. The hum of fluorescent lights.
Then—footsteps.
Heavy. Measured. Deadly.
Henry.
Zoey's spine went rigid as his presence crashed into the room like a violent storm. The sharp, sterile hospital lighting did nothing to soften the lethal expression darkening his features.
The way he said her name—low, controlled, ice slicing through steel—made the walls feel like they were caving in.
Her lips parted, a dozen lies ready—but none would save her now.
Henry's fists curled, his entire body a live wire of restrained violence. The air itself felt charged, suffocating.
A normal person would freeze. Surrender. Beg.
But Zoey wasn't normal.
She moved.
Lightning-fast, she seized the heart monitor's power cord and ripped it free. The machine flatlined in an instant, the room erupting with chaos—alarms blaring, the shrill wail slicing through the air like a siren of impending disaster.
Emilia stirred, a soft whimper escaping her lips as her body sensed the shift in the air. Nurses would come running. Security would be alerted.
But Zoey wasn't done.
Before Henry or Cayden could react, she lunged for Emilia's IV stand and shoved it forward. It clattered to the ground, tangling in the bed's wiring, sending the entire bedside table crashing down with it. The water pitcher shattered, glass and liquid splattering everywhere.
Henry bolted for her, but Zoey was already in motion.
With inhuman speed, she snatched a tray of surgical instruments from the supply cart. The cold metal of the tools sent a sharp chill up her fingers. Instead of a scalpel, she flung the entire tray at Henry.
Metallic tools clattered through the air—forceps, scissors, scalpels—a flash of sharp edges.
Henry didn't flinch. His instincts kicked in, his body shifting just enough to dodge the worst of the onslaught, but the instruments rained down around him, clattering against the tiles with piercing, metallic echoes.
That split-second hesitation was all she needed.
Zoey ran.
She smashed through the hospital room door, sending it swinging wildly against the wall. The blaring alarms masked the sound of her pounding footsteps as she tore down the corridor, weaving between stunned nurses.
Henry didn't shout. He didn't need to.
Cayden was right behind him, blood soaking into his sleeve, his focus locked on the fleeing woman—whoever the hell she was.
She was fast—but Henry was faster.
Ten feet.
Five feet.
He could feel her within reach—
Then, she did something insane.
Zoey slammed her body into the nearest gurney, flipping it sideways into Henry's path.
The patient strapped to it screamed as it toppled, knocking into two nurses and sending a cascade of medical supplies flying.
Henry skidded to a stop, his instinct to not trample the injured patient costing him another second.
A security guard appeared at the end of the hallway, drawn by the chaos.
Zoey didn't hesitate.
She ducked left, shoving through an emergency exit door just as Henry vaulted over the gurney.
By the time he burst through after her—
Zoey was gone.
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The scent of antiseptic burned in Henry's nostrils as he stormed through the emergency exit, scanning the dimly lit corridor. Nothing. Just the flickering overhead lights and the distant murmur of voices from the main hall.
Zoey had vanished.
Henry exhaled slowly, rage simmering beneath the surface. His fists ached from how tightly he was clenching them.
Then—Emilia.
He forced himself to turn back, returning to her hospital room. The moment he stepped inside, the chaos around him faded.
She was awake, barely, her lashes fluttering, her breath shallow. When her gaze met his, her pulse spiked visibly on the monitor.
Henry sat beside her; his hands gentle as they cradled hers. "She's gone," he murmured. "She won't touch you again."
Emilia swallowed hard, her fingers trembling against his. "I thought—"
For the first time in hours, the tension in her body eased. A slow, shaky breath left her lips, and she leaned into his touch.
The room smelled of antiseptic, but beneath it, there was something grounding—something warm. Henry. His scent. His presence.
She held onto that, and for a moment, the world outside—the danger, the fear—faded into nothing.
Henry pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering. "Sleep," he murmured. "I'll be right here."
She believed him.
And for the first time in a long time, she let herself rest.
But Henry didn't sleep.
Not yet.
Because Zoey was still out there.
And next time, she wouldn't get away.
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The night air burned in Zoey's lungs as she sprinted through the alleyway, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. [This book is available exclusively and for free on Wattpad. If you find it anywhere else, it has been stolen. Please report any unauthorized copies.] The sharp sting of cold wind cut against her damp skin, mixing with the acrid scent of the city—rotting trash, gasoline, something metallic, something alive. It clung to her, just like the scent of antiseptic and blood had back in the hospital, when she was inches away from ending it all.
Her heart still pounded from the thrill of the chase. That was too close. But, God, wasn't that the best part? The adrenaline surging through her veins, the way Henry's eyes had burned with pure, murderous intent. She had seen him like that once before—years ago, when everything fell apart.
And now? Now he was looking at her like that again.
She could still feel the weight of the vial in her pocket, pressing against her thigh like a promise. It's not over. It's never over.
Zoey ducked into a shadowed doorway, pressing her back against the cold brick, sucking in deep breaths. Her fingers twitched, still coated in sweat, still ghosting over the cold metal of the surgical tray she had hurled at Henry. The weight of the scalpel. The glint of steel. The rush of knowing she had been seconds away from finishing what she started.
But it wasn't the right moment. Not yet.
She pulled out her phone, her thumb hovering over a contact. A single letter. V.
A slow, knowing smile curled her lips as she hit send.
We need to talk.
She waited. One beat. Two. Then—three dots appeared.
I told you not to do anything reckless.
Zoey let out a low, breathy laugh, her fingers tightening around the device. Oh, come on. You love a little chaos.
Silence.
Then:
Where are you?
Zoey's pulse quickened. He was hooked.
Her grin widened as she typed back:
Closer than you think.
She pocketed the phone, heart thrumming, eyes sharp as she melted into the night.
Henry thought he had won tonight.
He thought she had run.
But the truth was, she was just getting started.