Page 23 of The Bane of a Sinner
Dr. Wilcox scribbled something else onto her chart, the scratch of his pen loud in the quiet room. Diana glanced at me, searching my face for some sign, for some reason for my hostilitytoward Dr. Wilcox, but my expression was closed, guarded. I flat-out refused to stress her out anymore.
“Ms. Cooper, stress isn’t good for you right now,” Dr. Wilcox said quietly, his voice softening just a fraction, as if he realized her world had shifted beneath her feet. “You have nothing to worry about. The ultrasound showed a strong, healthy boy.”
“A boy,” Diana gasped as I slowly stood to my full height.
“We didn’t want to fucking know, Wilcox.”
The smug bastard grinned. “Then I guess you should have taken her somewhere else.”
Before I could speak, Dr. Wilcox’s pager shrilled, slicing through the moment. He glanced at the screen, his face unreadable, and then looked up at me. There was something in his eyes, something careful, neutral, and it made my skin prickle with unease.
“What?” I asked, my voice low.
“Step outside with me, Dr. Lansing,” Dr. Wilcox said, the fucker’s mask slipping firmly back into place.
I squeezed Diana’s hand, just once, before following Dr. Wilcox out of the room.
Little did I know that the events of that weekend would change the course of my life, and the Soulless Sinners, forever.
Chapter Twelve
August
I followed Dr. Wilcox out of the room, and when the door was properly closed, I turned and hauled him up against the wall. “Listen up, you motherfucker. You will destroy her chart and forget you ever met her, got me?”
The fucker grinned. “And why would I do that, Dr. Lansing, or do you prefer Bane? Besides, she’s nothing but a club whore, and Mr. Stone pays me well to inform him when one of his club brothers fucks up, and man, did you fuck up big time.”
I felt my blood boil at the mention of George Stone and this sniveling doctor’s betrayal. My hands tightened around Wilcox’s collar, and I pressed my face close to his. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into. George Stone will be the least of your worries if you don’t do as I say.” I released him with a shove, and he stumbled, a mix of fear and defiance flashing in his eyes.
Wilcox straightened his coat and smirked. “You’re in no position to make demands, Lansing. Stone has eyes and ears everywhere. He already knows about your little secret, and he’s not one to let things slide. Especially when it comes to his club.”
I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to wipe that smug look off his face.
“You’re a fool if you think his protection is worth more than your career, or your life,” I growled. “I’ll give you one more chance to make the right choice. Destroy her chart, forget about her, and let us walk away. No one needs to know.”
The doctor’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I thought he might agree. But then he shook his head, a smirk playing onhis lips. “Sorry, Doc. Can’t do that. Stone’s my ticket to the top. Without him, I’m just another small-time doctor. I’d rather take my chances with him than with you. Besides, after I tell you who was just admitted into the hospital, that whore in there is going to be the least of your worries.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Your sister was just brought in.”
A cold jolt sliced through my anger, replaced for a moment by something sharp and panicked.My sister.The words echoed in the sterile hallway, louder than any threat Wilcox could spit. My hands fell to my sides, suddenly numb.
“That’s right, you pompous prick,” Wilcox sneered. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen! Your whore of a sister was left to drown in an icy river.” That fucker laughed. “Who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky, and the same thing will happen to your bitch.”
My mind went blank. A red haze choked the rational part of my brain. Then, a brutal, bone-jarring crack as my fist connected with Wilcox’s face—the sickening scent of his blood filling my nostrils, the vile taste blooming on my tongue. His head snapped back, the crisp starch of his white lab coat crumpling under my grip as I hauled him from the floor. He was a rag doll in my hands, his eyes wide and frantic in the sterile, harsh glare of the fluorescent lights.
I slammed him against the wall with the force of a battering ram; the impact echoed through the stunned silence of the hallway. The hushed gasps of onlookers, the frightened whimpers of patients, the choked cries of nurses—all were a dull roar in my ears, a symphony of fear irrelevant to the rage that consumed me. His breath hitched in his throat, a strangled gasp.
“You’re dead, Wilcox,” I hissed, my voice a commanding whisper of raw fury. “I’m going to kill you with my bare hands.”
“Shit!” The word ripped through the air, a ragged scream swallowed by the sudden, suffocating weight of arms aroundme. They yanked me back, a brutal tug from the precipice of witnessing that... thing... that coward slither away. Rage, raw and burning, consumed me. I wrestled free, the man’s grip loosening under the force of my fury. My gaze snagged on the rat, a smirk twisting his lips as he melted into the shadows. He was gone, but the image of his smug face, etched in the grim light, would sear itself onto my soul.
My intern, Shame—a man with eyes too old for his face, haunted by secrets I knew nothing of—stood there, trembling, like a bird caught in a hawk’s shadow.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” My voice was a growl, rough with the grit of barely contained violence.
“I saw them, Bane. They’re all here,” he whispered, his voice barely audible above the frantic pounding of my own heart.
