69. BLAKE
BLAKE
I jogged toward the vestibule where Eli had vanished, my pulse spiking through my eardrums. Confronting him wasn’t a choice; it was a necessity.
The bastard might not confess what he’d given her, but he might have something on him: a vial, a pill bottle, hell, even a receipt that could point us toward the poison slowly killing her.
Every second we spent in the ER playing diagnostic roulette with a thousand possible toxins could be the difference between life and death.
Time wasn’t just ticking away; it was bleeding out like a severed artery.
But if I had any hope of saving Tess, I needed to be smart here.
Clinical. Precise. Eli was obviously baiting me into a trap, and while I’d gladly share whatever hellish fate he had planned if she didn’t make it—while every fiber of my being ached to hunt him down and beat him until his pulse flatlined—right now, her survival hinged on this deadly confrontation.
So, at the last second, I pivoted left and slipped down a long hallway, approaching the vestibule from the opposite direction Eli expected.
Predictably, the coward was crouched behind the doorway he expected me to walk through, his body angled to watch that entrance. As I crept closer, my attention locked on to his right hand and the syringe it gripped.
Fresh, boiling hot rage clouded my vision as the pieces snapped into place.
That lying bastard had played the concerned friend, pacing the halls outside her hospital room, pushing doctors to figure this out, acting devastated as her condition deteriorated.
All while knowing he’d caused this. Snapshots of her suffering flashed through my mind: her body trembling as she retched on the bathroom floor, those haunting dark circles beneath her eyes, the way her cheekbones had grown sharp as her strength ebbed away until, at times, she wanted to give up the fight.
And through it all, he’d stood there, pretending to care, probably savoring every moment of the hell he’d created.
Just past the open doorway, a handful of people gathered their belongings, preparing to leave, preparing to create a brand-new problem.
If they chose this side exit over the front door, they’d walk straight into Eli’s path.
I had no idea what depths of depravity Eli would sink to, what mistakes his desperation might drive him to make.
Or how many chemicals he might have on him.
One wrong move, and this could turn into a mass casualty incident.
An ambulance siren wailed in the distance while panicked voices from the crowd gathering around Tessa masked my footsteps as I advanced toward Eli.
Three feet behind him, my heart slammed against my ribs. I’d been in fights before, but never one where someone I loved would die if I failed.
One deep breath.
Then I lunged.
In that fraction of a second, Eli turned. His eyes went wide, but it was too late. I locked my left arm around his throat in a choke hold and seized his right wrist in an iron grip.
Eli thrashed wildly, fighting to free his arm. The awkward angle and his desperate jerking threatened to break my hold, but I tightened my elbow around his throat, trying to resist snapping it.
“It was you,” I growled. “All along, it was you hurting her.”
A piercing shriek cut through the air.
“Let him go!” An elderly woman burst into the vestibule, her oversize purse clutched against her chest. Her eyes blazed with misplaced righteousness as she took in the scene. Me, the apparent attacker, my arm locked around Eli’s throat.
More faces appeared in the doorway, a wall of horrified onlookers.
“Stay back!” I shouted. “He has a syringe!”
Either the old woman didn’t hear me or didn’t care. Her focus locked on to my arm around Eli’s throat, and to my horror, she charged forward, ramming her heavy purse against my back.
“Stop!” I roared. “He has a fucking needle. If it jabs you, you’re dead!”
Eli took advantage of the commotion, twisting until his arm slipped through my fingers.
The old woman hovered just inches away, perfectly positioned for him to strike her, and now, a middle-aged man lunged into the kill zone too.
His arms were outstretched to drag her back so I could regain control.
But it was too late.
Eli slithered through my grip like a snake.
He stumbled back, brandishing the syringe like a knife.
“Everyone, leave,” I commanded the frozen crowd of five.
“No one leaves,” Eli snarled.
When they didn’t move, I bellowed, “For God’s sake, he doesn’t have a gun! You can outrun a syringe!”
But fear does strange things to people. They huddled together, wide-eyed and trembling. I positioned myself between them and Eli, becoming a human shield.
“Leave. Now,” I ordered over my shoulder, never taking my eyes off Eli. “This might be your last chance.”
The sirens grew closer. Finally, mercifully, the five spectators scurried away, leaving me alone with the monster who’d tried to kill Tessa.
One snap of his neck, and he’d be dead. Even if he injected me, I might be able to end him before I lost consciousness.
“What did you give her?” My voice was deadly calm.
Eli’s lips curled into a sneer. “Come closer, and I’ll tell you.”
“Tell me what you gave her, and I’ll let you live.”
“Am I supposed to be scared?”
“But if you don’t tell me.” I let ice creep into my tone. “I will make your death unimaginably painful.”
“You’re a doctor.” He scoffed.
“Being a doctor gives me the exact skills I need to make your death excruciating.”
For the first time, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. Evidently, the monster cared about his own survival.
“This is your last chance, Eli. Tell me what’s in that syringe, or I end your life.”
“You think you’ve won, don’t you?” Something unhinged seeped through his tone.
“Your perfect life, your perfect job. She was supposed to be mine.” His fingers tightened around the syringe.
“Everything was perfect until you showed up. And now?” A cruel smile twisted his lips.
“Her organs are already shutting down. Ticktock, Doctor.”
He thought he was taunting me. And he was, but every word was a tell, narrowing the list of possible toxins.
When I’d been worried Tessa was being poisoned, I’d spend hours researching toxins, giving myself a fresh course on these agents.
“You chose a fast-acting agent this time then.”
I watched his reaction carefully while, inside, my heart thrashed against my ribs violently. Because fast-acting confirmed we needed answers now, and the only way to get them was through Eli.
“Smart doctor.” His voice dripped with contempt. “Always thinking you know everything.”
I let my voice crack with the desperation I’d been fighting to hide. “Just tell me what you injected her with.”
“Injected?” A cold smile spread across his face.
The poison hadn’t been administered via syringe then. Dermal absorption or ingestion. My mind raced through the possibilities and landed again on that flute of champagne she’d had. Something in it that could overwhelm her system before she even realized what was happening.
“She could be in agony right now,” I said, letting my mask slip further. “Tell me what you gave her so I can help her.”
“By the time you figure out what it was …” His lips curved into another cruel smile. “It’ll be too late.”
Figure it out. The words hit like a diagnosis. This wasn’t just any poison; it was something that needed its own antidote. Something specific. And whatever it was had to be accessible enough for a real estate agent to get his hands on.
I stepped closer. He raised the syringe.
“You’ve been poisoning her all along.”
This was what he craved: watching me suffer. So long as I fed that need, he’d keep talking. I slumped my shoulders, ran a trembling hand through my hair. The devastation inside me was real, but for the first time in my career, I was deliberately letting it show.
“How long does she have?” I choked.
“She’ll be gone in thirty minutes.”
“So, it’s not arsenic then. That causes organ failure and takes hours to kill. I’m guessing strychnine.” I watched his face, hunting for tells.
Eli smirked.
Not strychnine.
The sirens grew closer.
“I doubt a guy like you would have the skills to deliver ricin. One wrong move, and you’d be the one dying.”
“You think you’re smarter than everyone.” He leaned forward, eyes fever bright. “But right now? The woman you stole from me is dying. Her cells are cutting off oxygen, and there’s nothing you can do to save her.”
Cells cutting off oxygen.
“You gave her cyanide.”
The color drained from his face.
Bingo.
My mind raced with sudden, brutal clarity.
Elation, that I knew the poison, knew the antidote that could save her.
But right behind that surge of relief came the crushing weight of medical knowledge.
Cyanide was burning through her cells. Every second it coursed through her bloodstream was pure agony.
And if she didn’t get the antidote soon, knowing the answer wouldn’t matter at all.
At the far end of the ballroom, doors burst open. A gurney raced toward Tessa.
I could run now, but Eli was a rabid animal. He might attack someone else out of spite, might even take another shot at Tessa while the paramedics worked to save her.
I eyed the syringe, decision made as I pulled my phone up, firing off a quick text to Dr. Vaughn. Cyanide. Call ER. Have antidote ready.
His thumbs-up reply came instantly.
With Tessa in good hands, I could focus on the monster in front of me. I shoved my phone away, met his gaze …
And launched forward.
I seized his right wrist with both hands, spun so my back pressed against his chest, and grappled for the syringe. He sank his teeth into my shoulder, hooked his leg around my knee, and slammed me to the ground.
I rolled, but he was already on me, straddling my hips, needle poised to plunge into my neck. I grabbed his wrist with both hands, but he had the leverage.
The needle inched toward my skin.
“Tessa was mine,” he spat.
The point crept closer to my throat.
I bucked, but he didn’t budge.
“She trusted you,” I snarled. In college, a guy had violated her, and it took her years to carefully, methodically let anyone in. Each smile, each casual touch, each moment of vulnerability had been hard-won. “She let you in, and you violated her trust.”
“We were perfect together.” Spittle flew from his lips. “She was going to take me back. Until you came along.”
He leaned forward, putting his full weight behind the needle’s descent. But his shift in gravity was his mistake. When I bucked again, he tilted right, allowing me to roll with the momentum.
I flipped him onto his back and knocked the syringe from his grasp. His eyes went wide as I drove my forearm into his throat.
In my peripheral vision, I saw the stretcher with two EMTs racing toward the front doors. They had Tessa. My heart soared.
I snatched up the fallen syringe, pressed it to his neck, and pushed the plunger home.
“Enjoy the fate you planned for her.”