57. BLAKE
BLAKE
SINNERS & SAINTS GROUP CHAT
Axel: Why does Ryker look like he got in a fight with a doorknob and lost? *fist emoji*
Jace: When did you see Ryker?
Axel: Just dropped off the money I lost at poker because our esteemed lawyer hates Venmo. Something about money trails. Now spill. Who redecorated his face?
Ryker: You do realize I can read this, genius?
Axel: [has removed Ryker from the chat]
Jace: [has added Ryker to the chat]
Axel: [has removed Ryker from the chat]
Jace: [has added Ryker to the chat]
Ryker: Are you fucking five?
Axel: Seriously though, who’d you piss off? Please say opposing counsel.
Me: Maybe we should discuss this never.
Axel: HOLY SHIT. Blake knows something.
Axel: WAIT.
Axel: Did our good doctor finally snap? Did years of suppressed rage emerge in a beautiful display of violence?
Me: Axel, if you value your ability to walk, drop it.
Axel: OH MY GOD, HE DID
Axel: DOCTOR BLAKE WENT FULL HYDE
Ryker: Shut up. Now.
Axel: Was it in the library with the candlestick? The study with the rope? THE KITCHEN WITH A MEDICAL TEXTBOOK?
Me: Can’t make poker night. Busy.
Ryker: Same.
Axel: Cowards.
Axel: Next week, I’m bringing:
Popcorn
Boxing gloves
A medical kit (just in case)
My phone to record everything
Vegas odds (My money’s on Blake. He’s got that quiet serial killer energy.)
Me: I know where you sleep.
Axel: Threats only prove my point, Dr. Jekyll.
Ryker: I’m getting too old for this shit.
Jace: You’re 35.
Axel: And apparently still young enough to get his ass kicked by a doctor. *crying-laughing emoji*
Ryker: [Ryker has left the chat]
Axel: COWARDS.
Axel: Hey, Jace, what’s the over/under on them killing me in my sleep?
Jace: I’m not taking that bet.
Jace: But I’d clean up your will, just in case.
I shoved my phone back into my pocket and resumed rounds.
“Room eight needs an attending,” a resident called out, handing me a tablet.
The screen nearly shattered in my grip as I stared at the name of the patient— the name—at the top.
Eric Voss.
My vision tunneled, the rest of the ER falling away as those letters burned into my retinas.
After days of searching, of hitting dead ends, of watching Tessa jump at shadows, of imagining every horror he’d unleashed upon her that night, and every letter he’d sent since, here he was, delivered right into my web.
A savage sort of joy unfurled in my chest. Fate, it seemed, finally gave me a break.
Each step down the hallway felt charged with electricity.
The antiseptic hospital smell faded beneath something darker, the metallic taste of vengeance coating my tongue.
Every tear I’d wiped from Tessa’s cheeks, that time she’d woken screaming, that flinch when Chuck had moved too fast … it all crystallized into this moment.
Stepping into the room and shutting the door, I drew the privacy curtain closed with deliberate slowness, savoring the screech of metal rings against the rail. Like a shark circling its prey.
“Mr. Voss.” I stepped forward, letting my lips curl into the kind of smile that made grown men uncomfortable. The smile of a predator who’d finally cornered its prey. “I can’t tell you how very happy I am to see you here.”