Chapter 4

I banged on the door for fifteen minutes straight, screaming until my throat was raw and burning.

From the living room, Logan only ever offered that same placid reply:

"Save your breath. Once the surgery's done tomorrow, you'll have your freedom."

I stopped shouting.

It was pointless. The building had thick concrete insulation; the neighbors wouldn't hear a thing.

Leaning against the doorframe, panting, I forced my adrenaline-spiked brain to think rationally.

The bedroom was on the third floor, overlooking the residential greenbelt below.

I hurried to the window and pushed it outward. It wasn't locked.

However, an old iron security grille was mounted outside the frame. The bars were as thick as fingers, welded to the sill.

I grabbed two of them and shook them hard. The bottom joints rattled loosely, flakes of rust raining down.

Years of weather had eaten through the weld points; they were barely hanging on.

I pulled a sturdy metal hairpin from my hair, jamming it into the rusted seam and prying with all my strength.

I worked for nearly twenty minutes, blisters tearing open on my palms, until the two bars finally bent apart, leaving a narrow gap.

Barely wide enough for me to squeeze through sideways.

I ripped the bedsheets into long strips, grabbed jackets from the closet, and tied them together with tight, reinforced knots. I secured one end around the thickest crossbar of the window and yanked with my entire body weight. It held.

At two in the morning, the complex was bathed in pitch darkness.

I scavenged a handful of twenty-dollar bills from my luggage, then climbed through the narrow opening.

My shoulders jammed violently between the rusted bars, ripping a wide tear into my jacket.

The jagged metal scraped hard against the inside of my bare forearm, leaving deep, bloody gouges that burned like fire.

I ignored the agony, wriggling through and sliding down the makeshift rope.

When my feet hit the dirt, my ankle twisted hard. Biting my lip to choke back a scream, I ran barefoot across the dark lawn and out through the complex gates.

The street was desolate at that hour. I sprinted nearly two blocks before finally flagging down an off-duty yellow cab.

"Where to, miss?"

I gave him the name of the hospital where Julian worked.

"Miss, you're bleeding all over your feet."

"Please, just step on it."

Once the cab accelerated, I turned to the driver. "Can I borrow your phone, please? Someone stole mine."

The driver looked at my disheveled state in the rearview mirror and handed it over.

I typed in Julian's number and fired off a text:

*I was locked up overnight. Just broke out. On my way to your hospital right now.*

Three seconds later.

*My surgery just ended. Boarding a private medical charter right now.*

*Wait inside the hospital lobby. Do not leave under any circumstances.*

Staring at those words, my vision blurred with sudden tears, but I blinked them back.

*Okay.*

I handed the phone back to the driver and leaned my head back against the seat, closing my eyes.

The blood on my arm had congealed into dark crusts.

The soles of my feet were raw and torn, dirt and grit embedded deep in the skin.

At sunrise, the taxi pulled up outside the hospital's main entrance.

I paid the driver, got out, and limped into the bright lobby.

The smell of antiseptic rushed over me. The atrium was packed with morning crowds lining up for registrations.

I stood in the center of the lobby, searching for the information desk to ask where Julian’s department was.

Suddenly, a hand clamped down viciously onto my shoulder from behind.

The grip was brutal, fingers digging hard into my collarbone, making me gasp in pain.

I whipped around.

Logan stood right behind me.

Beside him was a burly man with a crew cut—broad-shouldered, muscular, a complete stranger.

Logan clearly hadn't slept a wink either. His eyes were heavily bloodshot, his shirt rumpled and collar unbuttoned.

Yet a terrifying smile stretched across his lips.

A smile that sent ice shooting down my spine.

"Chloe, running all night must've been exhausting, huh?"

"Come back with me. We can't afford to delay the procedure today."

I violently twisted out of his grip and bolted.

Before I could make it three steps, the crew-cut thug lunged from the flank, locking my arms into an iron vice.

"Let go of me!"

I screamed at the top of my lungs, thrashing with everything I had.

The crowded lobby instantly went quiet, heads turning our way.

"Help! I don't know these men! Call 911! They're kidnapping me!"

Logan hurried forward, pinning my other shoulder while instantly transforming his face into a mask of pure, sorrowful desperation.

"Chloe, stop this. Everyone is watching."