Page 117 of Sawyer

“Are you sure, Doc?”

“Oh, I am very sure of this.”

“Do you even know who she is?”

“Sawyer, isn’t it?” The man kneels before me, brushing my hair off my sticky face. “Oh yes, you are knocking on death’s door.”

Arms jostle me, and my head hangs before the softness of a gurney cushions my back. Fluorescent lights shine from above, their neon glow burning my retinas.

A hand grips my own, turning it around and around.

“Nightcrawler,” he grumbles. “Deadly, but luckily for you, I’m a scientist, and betas are very good at learning without magic.” He tucks my hand against my side, leaning over me.

I get my first look at this doc. His dark eyes peer down at me, almost black, though I’m sure they are a shade of brown. His salt-and-pepper hair is styled in a chic fashion that gives this man a deceiving appearance, and his long, sharp nose holds up glasses, which he pushes up his nose with a gloved hand.

He’s exceptionally mediocre.

“I can heal you, Sawyer,” he whispers, giving me a toothy smile. “Do you really want to live?”

I open my mouth to give him a snarky answer, but I can’t speak.

“So much venom pulsing through you. It’s really fascinating that you’ve lived this long. It’s been over a day, hasn’t it? I do hope it has,” he purrs. “I’m very interested in knowing that answer for science, of course.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, it’s been a day, or yes, you want to live?” he taunts. “I take that as both.” He leans back. “Room one.”

“One, Doc?”

“Oh yes,” Doc replies. “She belongs to the alpha, yes?”

“I believe so.”

“Well, make sure he watches,” Doc orders, and his voice is ice-cold, like the blood in my veins, or maybe that’s the venom spreading. “Now rest, Sawyer, because once you’re healed, I have so many fun things in store for you.”

Heart pounding, I don’t even realize there’s danger surrounding me, so all my focus remains on the man in front of me, not the one shoving a needle into my neck.

Not until it’s too late.

Sawyer

My body awakens little by little. Delirious, I swear I hear yelling and screaming before the world falls quiet all over again. The scent of bleach stings my nose, yet I burrow deeper under the flat pillow and crisp sheets, trying to shut the world away.

Sleep comes in spurts, and I’m woken every so often by an incessant beeping that drags me from a fitful rest.

Like now.

Rolling my head to the side, my hair glued to my scalp, I struggle to focus. A shaking hand reaches up to move my hair out of the way, only to find a tube in my arm.

My heart rate skyrockets when I focus on the clear tape stuck to the top of my hand.

That damn monitor beeps louder, mimicking my heartbeat in my ears. The whoosh-whoosh drowns out the sound for a moment until the door opens.

I can’t see a damn thing.

“I suspect you’ll need these.” The doctor’s voice is calm, and somehow, I believe he’s trying to emit soothing tones. “I found them in a pack in a cave. I wasn’t sure they were yours until I found the contacts glued to your eyes.”

Breathe, Sawyer, breathe.

---