Chapter 3
Light streamed in through a crack in Camryn’s cheap supposed-to-be-blackout curtains. She glanced at the clock beside her bed and tugged the blanket over her head. It was 2:30 p.m. In a few hours she’d have to be up and ready to leave for work.
The events of the previous night washed over her, and a wave of disbelief followed. Was it possible she’d dreamed everything? No. Because the nightmares of her shift had kept her awake until almost 10:00 a.m. But maybe she’d been spooked and hadn’t assessed things clearly. Brooks—thirty-six—why did they call the patients by their numbers and not their names? Another red flag. But his wounds had been explained by Kate. He’d tried to escape and injured himself, likely on the fence, and if he’d killed three guards, then clearly the staff would have needed to be aggressive when taking him down.
That was almost logical.
The restraints, although unsettling, weren’t new to her.
His reaction when he’d woken was also plausible for someone in his condition. Of course he’d want to run from a place that he believed was turning him into a monster.
She’d return to work with a clear head and go from there.
Buzz, buzz, buzz
She flipped back the corner of the blanket and cracked open an eyelid. Only the hospital and one other person had her new phone number. She reached over and answered. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, sweetheart.” Her mom’s voice was as smooth and sweet as maple syrup. “Were you still sleeping?” A note of surprise raised the last word.
Camryn tucked the covers under her chin. “No. I just woke up, though. I had trouble falling asleep this morning. Night shift has me all turned around.”
“Oh, yes, it will do that to you. When I worked nights at the gas station, I put on twenty pounds. Totally screws with your metabolism.”
“Ugh. Don’t tell me that,” Camryn said with a chuckle.
“Well, you could afford to gain a few pounds. Especially after what happened with Isaac.”
The amusement fell away from her lips. She fisted her hand around the sheet. God, she didn’t want to think about Isaac. Her mom always tried to shield her from pain, and if she sensed Camryn didn’t want to talk about Stacey’s son, she wouldn’t.
“I’m okay. Timber’s Terrain is... nice.” Words burned her tongue, and she forced them out. “He hasn’t found you, has he?”
“Oh Lordy, no. Heck, if he did, I’d be impressed. Unfortunately, he’s probably robbing a liquor store to get money for his next hit.”
Despair made Camryn sink deeper into the mattress. Where had they gone wrong? Isaac had always struggled. As a child, he’d been angry and difficult to connect with. Now, at twenty-five, he was high or drunk all the time. The worst of it was that he went to great lengths to get whatever money he could: selling Camryn’s mother’s TV, her Royal Doulton collection... anything he could get his hands on. When Linda changed the locks and refused to allow him inside her apartment, shit had gotten ugly.
Then he’d really turned.
Camryn forced the image from her mind. She couldn’t go there. Not after what had happened last night. “I’m glad he hasn’t found you.”
“You’re staying low, honey?” Concern filled her mother’s voice.
Oh, how Camryn missed her. But being together right now was too dangerous. Isaac would be looking for both of them. With their names and appearances changed, he’d have a hell of a time.
“My job is definitely discreet.”
“That’s wonderful. I was thinking I’d take a trip to see you next month. North Dakota is beautiful, but I miss you.”
She closed her eyes, and tears leaked through her lids. “I miss you too, Mom.” She said goodbye and hauled her butt out of bed. If she didn’t get herself in gear, she’d wallow all day. She made herself eggs and toast—wasn’t it considered breakfast if she’d just woken up?—then showered and tugged on jeans and a T-shirt. She’d run to the grocery store and stock up on food for the weekend. One more shift and then she had three days off.
An image of Brooks and his icy-blue eyes flashed through her mind. Would he ever get out of the hospital? Did he have family waiting for him? A career? Pity pulled at her heart. He wasn’t a monster. The fear, uncertainty, and guilt in his eyes told her that.
She shook her head and scooped up her keys.
I won’t think about him anymore. Not until my shift starts.
Hanging on to that firmly planted notion, she exited the house through the garage, got in her car, and backed out of her one-bedroom townhouse. At the top of her list was stocking up on comfort food.
***
Sweat ran inrivulets down Brooks’s face. He watched the droplets smatter on the concrete floor at his feet. The restraints circling his wrists, his waist, and his feet were the only things that kept him from ripping Leonetti and Eddie limb from limb.
“You doing okay, there, Brooks?” The doctor smiled.
Brooks gnashed his teeth. He knew the doctor’s tricks. Leonetti addressed him by name in an attempt to sound personable. Meanwhile, he had the rest of his staff refer to Brooks as a number. The sickly sweet tone of the man’s overly professional voice made a red haze cover Brooks’s vision.
“Fuck you.” He spat, and it landed at Dr. Leonetti’s feet, several paces away. Brooks bounced on the steel bed, which was tipped up vertically. His toes barely touched the floor, leaving all the weight on the straps that secured him. Leonetti kept the torture rooms on the twelfth floor—“So the others won’t hear the screams,” as Eddie liked to say.
For hours, Eddie and Dr. Leonetti had tortured him in the water chamber. Ice-cold water blasting the body at full force and from every angle for god knows how long was enough to make anyone cave.
Except him.
He had one purpose. He wouldn’t give up until he’d slaughtered the two men in the room... and Conrad Hornick. Brooks’s temper coiled, keeping his gaze on the doctor’s beady eyes. With his receding hairline and small oval-framed glasses, Leonetti looked like an everyday family physician and not the complete sicko that he was.
“Careful. Don’t get yourself too worked up before we give you the serum.” He waggled his finger, and Eddie chuckled from a desk several feet away. The machine hooked up to Brooks beeped as his heart rate accelerated.
“You’re awfully tense today, Brooks,” the doctor said, reading the machine. “You tried to escape two nights ago,” he said softly.
There it was. Of course, this mind-fuck was punishment for his defiance. Brooks kept his expression flat. “You made me kill people in cold blood. Now you’re pissed I took my rage out on three of your guards? Maybe you should stop trying to screw with nature.”
“That’s what science is, my boy. Taking something nature’s made and making it better, stronger.” He swatted Brooks’s chest.
Seconds ticked by. Brooks kept his gaze locked on the doctor. A niggle of unease chomped at his spine. They were going to do something worse... use a new drug. Something to push the boundaries to which he’d already acclimated.
Dr. Leonetti tugged on one of the wires hooked up to Brooks’s chest. “You’re a few hours late on taking the serum. How are you feeling?”
A muscle in Brooks’s neck twitched. “Fine.” The word slipped through his teeth before he could replace it with something more aggressive. He wasn’t fine. Nowhere fucking near it. He’d been through the withdrawal stage once before, and the suffering had been unbearable. The sweat rolling off his brow wasn’t just from his flaming temper or the hot lights overhead. Nor was it just from the effect of his weight being pulled at by the restraints. Oh no. The familiar roll of nausea in his gut, coupled with the fact that they hadn’t fed him yet today, made the craving that much deeper.
He hated the drug—would rather die than be their puppet any longer. But going without it would be a slow and painful death.
“I’ll give you a choice, my friend,” Dr. Leonetti said flatly, as he turned his back. He took two steps away.
Brooks’s fingers flexed with the need to feel the doctor’s neck snap under his grip. The endearment only pissed him off more. He’d revel in every second it took to slaughter both of them—if he could hold himself back long enough to relish the moment. The doctor had killed dozens of people. Three of them were people he’d “rewarded” Brooks with.
Dr. Leonetti pulled a syringe out of his pocket and held it between his thumb and forefinger. “Often we let you run through the course,” he said, referring to level eight of the basement, which held an obstacle course designed to burn off his energy. “Other times, we need to see what you’re capable of. If the drug can overpower your subconscious mind. In the three instances you murdered innocent men, it was when you were deprived of the drug for two hours or more, and then given it.” He ticked the corner of his mouth up. “Almost as if your body couldn’t store the added hormones as efficiently.”
“When are you going to be done with me, huh?”
Dr. Leonetti tilted his head. “You don’t realize how difficult it is to get human subjects, do you? We paid a high price for you because of your age and physique. Which was a hundred times better than that of a junkie we could get off the street or a slave who’d been sold ten times over.” He snickered and stepped forward. “Don’t you see? I can’t let you go. Not when you’re so capable.”
Brooks bucked against his restraints. His shoulder blades banged against the metal at his back. A rumble of hate, red and violent, surged through him. He collected all the moisture in his mouth onto his tongue and hurled the gob into Leonetti’s face.
The doctor jerked back as Brooks’s saliva hit him just above his mouth. “Christ,” he wheezed. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped up the mess.
Brooks seethed. “Fuck you and your serum. I’ll never work for you.”
Dr. Leonetti’s expression was lethal. “You’re right—I own you,” he snarled, his voice hoarse with distaste. He popped the cap off the needle and plunged it into Brooks’s vein.
The cold liquid hit his bloodstream. Brooks dropped his head back on the metal, wanting to resist the pleasure that filled his body. As the drug traveled through him, it closed off the sounds of the room. The sweat on his brow decreased, but his breath became ragged.
No, no, no.
He couldn’t kill another innocent person.
Wouldn’t.
Every fiber in his muscles stretched, as if he’d just worked out for hours. His ligaments loosened, but at the same time his skin stiffened—protecting him from injuries. He coiled his hands into fists, and the tendons in his wrists pressed against the leather bands. His mind warred with his body.
Betrayed by his own flesh.
He inhaled deeply, riding the waves of the drug that disrupted his system only to bring it into a heightened state of focus. If he could remain connected with his mind, not get overrun by adrenaline, he could control where he directed his wrath. He opened and closed his hands rapidly, using his forearms to curl his hands up, putting more pressure on the restraints. They’d give. They fucking had to.
He peeled his eyelids open and scoured the room. He didn’t need a mirror to tell him his pupils were enlarged despite the bright lights. Not when his eyesight was improved tenfold. All his senses came on high alert.
“Keep him here until I get back.” Leonetti’s command followed by footsteps told him the doctor was stepping out. The rustling of keys reached his ears.
“You’re going to miss the show, doc!” he called. A laugh boomed from his chest. This time he’d get his revenge.
Eddie tented his fingers under his chin. “Don’t worry, thirty-six. We’ve got everything on camera.” He stood and approached the standing metal bed. The clank of a door reached Brooks’s ears. The doctor was gone, but Brooks could still save humanity from one sonofabitch. Tunneling all his strength into the muscles in his right hand, Brooks snapped the leather from its place at his side. The band dropped to the floor.
Eddie’s gaze followed the material. His face turned alabaster white. Terror shone in his small eyes. He jerked his head up to meet Brooks’s eyes and opened his mouth on a scream. Brooks jabbed his hand forward, grabbing Eddie by the throat. The man flapped and flailed, waving at the cameras, trying to get security’s attention.
It’d be too late.
Digging his fingertips into the fine tendons of Eddie’s neck, Brooks watched the man’s face turn as red as blood. Gasps hiccupped in his throat.
“Burn in hell, Eddie.” Brooks flicked his wrist to the side. The subtle motion exerted tremendous force on Eddie’s windpipe. His eyes bugged out of his head. Then he hung still.
Footsteps clapped in the hall.
They’re coming.
Brooks snapped open his hand. Eddie’s body dropped to the ground, and his head smacked against the floor. The lab’s metal door sprang open, and the window next to it revealed the pile of guards in the hall armed to take him down. Brooks yanked the strap from his still-confined wrist then removed the one at his waist. His body as rigid as a rod, he strode forward. His gaze landed on Dr. Leonetti with four guards surrounding him.
Concern wrinkled the doctor’s skin. He pushed his glasses up high on his nose and approached, hands outstretched. “C’mon, son. You don’t want to hurt any more people.”
Brooks’s muscles vibrated. The drug moved through his veins effortlessly now. Not a single cell in his body resisted. Not when the drug would aid him in killing every staff member in the hospital. Every person who’d been part of his imprisonment.
He smirked. “Come here, doc, and I won’t kill half your guards.” The words grated through his scratchy throat.
Dr. Leonetti stopped. He lifted his hand in the air and motioned with two fingers. The four guards charged forward. Brooks lunged and grabbed the first one by his throat and the buckle of his pants. He lifted him over his head and roared. The other guards stopped and aimed their tranquilizers. One dart smacked him in the chest. He threw the man into the group of guards, and another guard went down with him. Brooks ripped the dart from his flesh.
A faint tickle started in his legs, but it would take more than one dart to get him down. He shifted his focus back to the doctor—nothing else mattered but killing his torturer. He charged across the room. Rubber bullets rained down on his body. The doctor scrambled to the other side of the metal door. The bullets ricocheted off the glass window beside the door, splitting it into a web of cracks. Dr. Leonetti pushed the door shut. Brooks collided with the metal and banged his fists on the door, making it jump on the hinges. “Come out, you coward!”
Dr. Leonetti’s face filled the splintered window. Brooks’s chest heaved with unspent rage. The bullets had stopped, likely because they’d only break the glass further.
“Contain him!” Leonetti bellowed.
Brooks slashed his mouth into a smirk just before driving his fist into the window. Glass shattered at his feet.
More darts hammered his flesh. Brooks wheeled around. He’d have to kill the guards to get out. He launched himself at the closest man of the three. Getting his arms around the guard’s waist, he jabbed his fist into his kidney.
“Get him down, now!” the man howled. The two other guards latched on to his biceps on either side of him. The darts were kicking in. Not enough to put him to sleep yet, but enough to make his movements clumsy. The metal door behind him opened. Brooks looked over his shoulder just as Dr. Leonetti inserted a syringe into his bicep. No.
The liquid entered his bloodstream.
He had to do something. Now. Reaching up, he grabbed the doctor’s face, knocking his glasses off. Leonetti stumbled backward as the guards pinned Brooks’s arms. The sedative lit his veins, mixing with the drug and battling to come out on top. The mist rolled in. He thrashed and kicked, sending one guard flying only for another to clamber on top of him.
He was losing his strength.
He lifted his gaze to Dr. Leonetti’s face. Scratches marred his cheek where Brooks had attempted to rip off his skin. Red blotches of anger covered the rest of his face. He lifted his phone to his ear and spoke softly.
Brooks focused on reading his lips, the whisper of the doctor’s voice just barely reaching his ears, despite their heightened abilities.
“We need to take him to a secure location. The facility isn’t suitable anymore.” A beat passed. “I’ll move him in the morning.” He disconnected and slipped the phone in his pocket. His gaze zeroed in on Brooks. “You got what you wanted, Brooks. You’re out of here.” He flashed him a smile and strode out of the room.
Brooks let loose a roar but the medication took over, garbling the sound. Darkness came crashing down fast and hard.