Page 6 of Unchained

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 looking for me.

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