Chapter 2
Brooks’s blood boiled. His skin lit with fire, as it did every time he woke to receive the sedative—or the drug. Whichever realm the sick doctor decided to thrust him in. He narrowed his eyes at the blonde. She held a blue sponge, and her dark-green eyes watched him with unveiled fear.
She must be new. If she’d been present for the last few weeks of hell, she would have fucking screamed at his touching her. He hadn’t seen her before, of that he was certain. She wasn’t one of Dr. Leonetti’s minions. Nonetheless, she was here in his prison, no doubt about to inject him.
He twisted her wrist. “What are you doing to me?”
Her face contorted, and a mewl of pain escaped her lips. “Washing you.”
He snarled. “Since when do they do that?”
Her throat bobbed on a swallow.
“You’re going to burn in hell for what you do to me. To these people.” He twisted her wrist farther, and she bent her arm at an awkward angle to prevent him from snapping the bone.
For a flicker of an instant, his instincts screamed at him to release her. Something told him he’d been raised to never hurt a woman, but since they’d been working on wiping his memory, he couldn’t be sure. All he knew was it didn’t fucking feel right to cause her pain. But she’d inject him if given the chance, and then go on to do the same to the other patients. A broken wrist might save someone’s life today.
Not his. They’d chain him up like the beast they’d turned him into if he broke her arm like he wanted to.
“Stop,” she said, panting. “I want to ask you some questions.”
“Fuck your questions,” he growled. “You—”
A needle plunged into his flesh. The burning sensation ripped through his veins. His muscles tensed, resisting the drug, but it was no use. His hand extended open, and the woman stumbled to the floor. Her sharp gasps reached his ears, but the screeching sound of his own blood vessels quickly drowned her out.
His back arched, and he stared at the ceiling as the tiles morphed into one. Hot eyes on his body brought his attention away from the pain that quickly faded. The woman stood, her eyes wide in horror and her lips open in a giant O.
He mustered all his strength. “I’ll find you. I’ll find all of you and—”
His head dropped to the bed. The black fingers of oblivion stretched across his vision. Sleep would come this time... the next injection would be the one that would force rage into his body and expel it like an exorcism on the next victim they tossed to him.
She’d burn in hell...
But so would he.
***
Camryn staggered tothe far corner of the room. She held her throbbing hand to her chest. Her breath ripped through her dry lips. He was sedated now. He couldn’t come after her.
But he’d threatened her.
She squeezed her eyes shut as tears flowed down her cheeks. His chart had said he was paranoid. Delusional. Of course he’d say wild things and try to hurt her—that’s why he was strapped down. But something vulnerable had shone in his eyes despite the hate he’d spewed. Almost as if he didn’t like himself.
Guilt. He exuded guilt and fury.
She forced her heart rate to slow. As much as she wanted to run screaming from the room, she couldn’t. He had wounds that needed to be cleaned before they got infected. She looked up at the clock—she’d injected him five minutes late. As long as she didn’t make the same mistake next time, she likely wouldn’t see him awake.
Except when she got switched to the day shift. Maybe by then he’d be in a better state. She glanced down at her wrist. A red ring circled the skin, but he hadn’t hurt her. He’d been close, though. Something had stopped him from snapping her arm. Despite having just woken from sedation, he’d had unusual strength. She lowered her hand and went to the cupboard above the sink to retrieve some antiseptic. She quickly cleaned the gashes on his stomach—what the hell had caused him to cut himself there? She made a mental note to pull Jen aside. Or maybe another nurse would be more open about what went on here. After bandaging the cuts on his midsection, she attended to the minor ones on his face. His eyelids flickered, and a stab of guilt hit her.
She’d forced him into a comatose state with medication. It felt wrong. But if she hadn’t, he might have broken her wrist. Coughing away the emotion that clogged her throat, she dabbed the scratches on his face but didn’t bother covering them.
Camryn moved to the cupboard under the sink and found a thicker blanket. She covered him to his chin then turned out the light and exited the room. A weight crushed down on her chest. Scanning the floor, she studied each busy, bustling caregiver. A young redhead passed her. Camryn caught her elbow.
The woman jumped. “You scared me.”
“Sorry,” Camryn said, wringing her hands in front of her. “I’m new. I wondered if you could answer some questions.”
She smiled and popped out her hip. Her bright pink top with yellow butterflies was almost too cheery for this hole in the floor. “Sure thing. I’m Kate.”
Camryn measured her words. “Camryn. The patient in thirty-six—are you familiar with him?”
Kate pushed her tongue to the inside of her cheek. “Not really. I roll him to his room at 6:00 a.m. before he wakes up. He’s a hottie, though,” she said, bobbing her eyebrows.
Yeah, the dude was ripped and every girl’s bad-boy dream, minus the straps and sedation. “He’s really beat up. Filthy, too. Do you know what happened?”
Kate’s eyes widened. “Oh, he must have been the patient who escaped last night. Ugh. That sucks.” She scrubbed her forehead with the back of her hand.
“Why does it suck?”
Kate swept her gaze to the floor then leaned in close. “Three guards were murdered last night. One had his neck snapped. And Jose’s ribs were broken so severely his lungs were punctured and they couldn’t save him.” She sent a wary gaze to thirty-six’s door. “That dude’s a savage. Be careful.” She turned on her heel and waltzed into another patient’s room.
Savage.
Of course he’s a savage.He’d nearly torn her arm off... and yet he’d held back. She sucked in a breath and moved on to the next patient. It was going to be a long night.
Ten hours later, Camryn leaned against a wall and stretched her neck from side to side. Her body buzzed with confusion, her brain long since conditioned to sleep between the hours she’d just worked, but somehow she was still standing.
The rest of the patients hadn’t been in unusual shape. Half of them were suffering from delusions, and weak. There were some who’d recently had limbs amputated, and others recuperating from traumatic head wounds. Asking questions wasn’t an option when they were so heavily medicated or couldn’t hang on to reality longer than the time it took to smile fleetingly.
Oddly enough, the brute in thirty-six was more coherent than any other patient.
“Just about done,” Kate sang, as she sauntered past.
How the woman kept a smile glued to her face when working a twelve-hour night shift underground was almost creepy.
Camryn blew an exaggerated breath through her lips. “I’m ready for bed. What are you doing now?”
Kate made a face. “Paperwork. At least I got to roll hottie in thirty-six to his room.”
“Where’s that? I haven’t seen any floors beyond this one and the main floor.” She shouldn’t ask questions. Shouldn’t tease herself with the knowledge of where he’d be awake. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, go to him...
“He’s on nine,” Kate said, nodding at the floor. “Don’t worry, you’ll get to see him again tonight.” She winked suggestively and made a beeline for one of the triage desks.
Temptation pulled at her. A glance at the clock on the wall showed it was 6:58 a.m. She scooped up her purse and made her way to the elevator.
Don’t do it, Cam. Don’t do it.
She entered the elevator, stuck the metal key in the slot, and turned it. Her thumb hovered over the button marked with an M. She rubbed the pad of her thumb on a fingertip and quickly pushed 9. The doors slammed shut. She jumped and clung to the metal rail as the elevator descended two stories.
That’s it. She’d lost her ever-loving mind. Sleep deprivation and angst over her new work had made her impulsive. She’d take a quick peek, see if he was awake—if she could even access his room without getting caught. Thankfully, no one would question her too much on her first day of work. She’d play the ignorance card.
The door opened.
Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. She kept her fingers curled to the rail as if holding on would save her from being sucked off the elevator and into a convoluted situation she wouldn’t be able to control.
A long hallway stretched before her. No central triage station like on the seventh floor. No bustle of people. No guards. The door dinged, and she stuck out her hand to stop it from closing. Stepping over the threshold, she moved onto the floor. Grit filled her dry mouth as she stared at the peeling paint on the walls. On the ceiling, every second light was burned out. She wrinkled her nose. The stench of urine and lack of disinfectant permeated the walls.
Beige metal doors were staggered on each side of the hallway. There were no more than twenty on the whole floor. Each one had a black number beside it—and the numbers weren’t in order. She picked up the pace, scanning each door. She stopped just before the door at the end of the hall.
Camryn made fists at her sides. The weight of her purse pulled down her shoulder. A glass window ate up the center of the door. Part of her wanted to run. To leave and never come back. But how could she? For one, she needed a job, and until she knew without a doubt that no patients were being abused, she couldn’t quit.
Kate had said the patient had escaped. The scrapes on his face were consistent with that story. The gashes on his midsection could be too, if he’d climbed the barbed-wire fence, but that fence was enormous. She inched forward, pressing her fingers against the door jamb.
Just a peek. Just to ensure his room was better kept than the hallway...
Angst turned her muscles rigid. Her pulse thrummed against the side of her throat. Next to the window were holes drilled in a spiderweb pattern—to speak through the door?
She leaned forward and gazed through the glass. The patient sat on the edge of a single bed that appeared to be unslept in. He kept his stare on the floor, his elbows on his knees and his hands linked. Her breath wheezed in and out of her nose as she watched.
He was okay. The bandages still covered his abdomen. His hair was still caked with grease. At least he wasn’t restrained. Surely that was a good indication—
He jerked his head to the window. His irises bore into hers like icy-blue coals. “You.” He got to his feet and crossed the room. His hand came to the glass. She caught sight of his dirty fingernails. Shame pierced her.
Her feet ached to run. Her brain screamed like a siren, warning her to save herself. But she couldn’t tear herself away from the door. His eyes scanned her face as if reading her. The purple bruise she’d noted made the corner of his lip plump. She cleared her throat. “Did you escape? Is that why you’re hurt?”
He drew his head back as if he’d been punched. “Hurt?”
She pointed. “The bruises. Your cuts.”
His gaze hardened as his nose came closer to the glass. “You mean to tell me you don’t know what they do here?”
She blinked back the mist that coated her vision. “It’s my first day.”
He cocked his head. A smirk touched his lips, but god, it wasn’t charming. More like... chilling.
“You don’t read the names of the drugs you inject? You experiment on humans as if we’re fucking lab rats and act like you’re innocent.” He banged his palm against the door, and it jumped on the hinges.
She stifled a scream and leaped backward.
“You’re worried about a few fucking scratches when your boss makes his subjects murder innocent people? Huh?” He shook the metal again.
She backed away, but her gaze stayed riveted to his eyes. Sadness emanated from him despite his wrath.
“Come here and I’ll show you the beast they created!”
She whipped around and ran down the hall. Her heart beat frantically in her ears, drowning out his screams. Faces appeared in the windows of several doors. She noticed a small, dark-haired woman with her hair sticking out at all angles. A frizzy-haired redhead laughed hysterically as Camryn tore past her door.
She leaped into the elevator and punched M. The doors wobbled shut. She pressed her back to the wall and her hand to her chest. Her lungs worked hard to drag in air, but her windpipe constricted on each inhale.
No. No way he was telling the truth. He’d tried to escape. A desperate man would say anything.
She needed to get out of here. Clear her head. His words rang on repeat in her head:
Come here and I’ll show you the beast they created.
***
She came lookingfor me.
Brooks paced a circle in his cell.
Why?
He bunched his hair in his fingers. Her first day? Maybe. Maybe she’d been shocked as shit to witness his condition. He brought his palm to the bandages at his stomach. She’d cleaned him and fixed his wounds. None of the nurses had offered to clean him before. But he’d also only seen flashes of them, whenever he woke up before they administered the sedative.
Sick fucks. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d see the doctor today, which meant he’d get punished for trying to escape the night before last.
This time he’d get the upper hand. Even if it meant taking his own life, he’d have to try. The thought of killing the doctor filled his fantasies and his dreams. The only time he felt alive anymore was when he dreamed of his revenge.
The blonde woman’s face filled his mind’s eye. Her hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, accentuating her smooth cheekbones. Pretty. Soft. He picked up on an entirely different frequency when she was around. Almost as if she cared or some shit.
Fuck.
If she was really new and didn’t know about Leonetti’s work, he’d scared her into next month. She wouldn’t come back. She’d probably fucking quit and then a robotic, twisted person would take her place. If she had any conscience, she’d go to the cops or at least report the lab, but the team would hide everything. They were damn good at covering their tracks.
No one would believe the horrors. No one wanted to fucking believe it.
Knuckles rapped on the door. “Thirty-six. The doctor will see you now.” The taunting voice of Eddie, Dr. Leonetti’s assistant, reached his ears.
Apprehension made his muscles scream. His feet rooted in protest, but he stomped out all the fear that threatened to rob him of his control. He was done being a victim. Today, he was getting out of this lab and killing everyone in his path. Starting with Eddie and Dr. Leonetti.
He smiled. “C’mon in, Ed.”