Page 7

five

Meadow

An Hour Later

As we are about to leave, a blood-curdling scream pierces the air. The sound echoes through the hallway, sending chills down my spine. Mason’s arm tightens around me instinctively.

“What the hell?” Konrad mutters, his head snapping toward the source of the commotion.

Another scream follows, this time accompanied by panicked shouts and the thundering of footsteps. A nurse rounds the corner at full sprint, her face pale with terror.

“He’s loose!” she cries, her voice cracking with fear. “Peterson stabbed an officer and got away!”

My blood runs cold. The world seems to tilt on its axis, the fluorescent lights suddenly too bright, too harsh. I feel Mason stiffen beside me, his muscles coiling like a predator ready to strike.

“Where?” he demands, his voice low and dangerous.

The nurse points a shaking finger down the hallway. “H-headed toward the stairwell. Oh God, there was so much blood…”

Before anyone can react, Mason is moving. He gently but firmly pushes me toward Konrad. “Get her somewhere safe,” he tells him. “Lock the door. Don’t open it for anyone but me.”

“Mason, no!” I reach for him, but he’s already striding away, his posture radiating lethal intent. “Please, be careful!”

Mason pauses, his eyes locking with mine. For a heartbeat, I see the man beneath the storm, the one who held me close and promised to keep me safe. Then it’s gone, replaced by cold determination. He vanishes around the corner, the sound of his heavy boots fading rapidly.

Konrad’s grip on my arm tightens. “Come on,” he urges, pulling me toward a nearby exam room.

The lock clicks behind us. I press my face against the small window, watching uniforms blur past. Radios crackle. Shouts echo down the hallway.

“Fuck,” Konrad mutters. He runs a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end. “How did that bastard get loose?”

I shake my head, unable to form words. My knees buckle. Konrad picks me up, easing me onto the exam table.

“Let me see that cut,” he says, gently lifting my scrub top, and all I can do is stare at the door Mason just left through.

* * *

MASON

It goes against everything inside of me to leave her injured, but that fucker can’t get away.

I stalk down the hallway, my senses on high alert. The hospital’s sterile scent is tainted with the metallic tang of blood. My boots echo on the linoleum, each step fueled by rage and purpose. Peterson. That fucking coward. He’s not getting away this time.

A nurse points me toward the stairwell, her eyes wide with fear. I nod grimly, pushing through the heavy door. The stairwell is dimly lit, shadows lurking in every corner. I pause, listening. A clatter of footsteps above me. Got you, you son of a bitch.

I take the stairs two at a time, my muscles burning with exertion. Adrenaline courses through my veins, sharpening my focus. Images of Meadow’s bruised and bloodied form flash through my mind, stoking the fire in my gut. This ends now.

I run onto the next floor, scanning the hallway. A trail of blood droplets catches my eye. My lips curl into a predatory grin. You can run, Peterson, but you can’t hide.

Following the trail, I round the corner. A flash of movement at the far end of the corridor. Peterson, limping badly, one hand pressed to his side. He glances back, his eyes widening in terror as he spots me.

“It’s over, you piece of shit!” I roar, sprinting toward him.

Peterson stumbles, crashing into a supply cart. Medical supplies scatter across the floor. He scrambles to his feet, desperation lending him speed. He throws himself at the elevator doors, jabbing frantically at the buttons.

I’m halfway down the hall when the elevator dings. The doors slide open. Peterson lunges inside, hammering at the close button. Our eyes lock as the doors begin to shut. The look on his face is one of pure, animal fear.

“No!” I snarl, diving for the closing gap.

My fingers brush the edge of the doors just as they close. I slam my fist against the metal, frustration and rage boiling over. “Fuck!”

I spin around, searching for the stairs. Can’t let this bastard get away. The image of Meadow’s terrified face as Peterson held that scalpel to her throat flashes through my mind. My hands clench into fists, knuckles white.

I find the stairwell, taking the steps three at a time. My lungs burn, muscles screaming in protest. But I push through the pain, driven by a singular purpose.

End this. Protect Meadow. Make the fucker pay.

I burst out onto the ground floor, wild-eyed and panting. The lobby is chaos. Patients and staff milling about in confusion. Security guards shouting into radios. And there, slipping through the automatic doors—Peterson.

“Stop him!” I bellow, shoving my way through the crowd.

But it’s too late. By the time I make it outside, Peterson is already stumbling into a waiting car. The engine roars to life, tires squealing against the asphalt as it peels away from the curb.

“No!” I roar, my voice raw with rage and frustration.

I sprint across the parking lot, my boots pounding against the pavement. The night air is cool against my flushed skin, the scent of exhaust fumes and rain-soaked asphalt filling my nostrils. Streetlights cast long shadows, creating a surreal landscape of light and dark.

The car’s taillights glow red in the distance, growing smaller with each passing second. I push myself harder, muscles burning, lungs heaving. But it’s futile. The gap between us widens inexorably.

I skid to a stop at the edge of the lot, watching helplessly as the car disappears around a corner. The sound of its engine fades into the night, leaving behind only the pounding of my heart and the ragged sound of my breathing.

“Fuck!” I scream into the empty street, my voice echoing off the surrounding buildings.

Rage and disappointment course through me. I slam my fist into a nearby lamppost, the impact sending shock waves of pain up my arm. But the physical discomfort is nothing compared to the ache in my chest.

I failed. Failed to capture Peterson. Failed to end this nightmare once and for all. Failed to keep Meadow safe.

The thought of her sends a jolt through me. Meadow. She’s still inside, probably terrified, wondering what’s happening. I need to get back to her.

As I turn back toward the hospital, my mind races. Peterson may have escaped for now, but this isn’t over. Not by a long shot. I’ll hunt that bastard to the ends of the earth if I have to.

But first, I need to make sure Meadow’s okay. To hold her in my arms and promise her that everything will be all right. Even if I’m not entirely sure of that myself.

With one last glance at the empty street where Peterson disappeared, I head back into the hospital. My steps are heavy with the weight of failure, but my resolve is stronger than ever.

This isn’t over.

Not by a long shot.