Chapter 71 *
Scarlett’s POV
Dr. Patterson stood up. Unsteady. Blood still trickling from his head wound.
"The office is on the top floor. But I need—"
"Move."
The leader gestured to his men. "Jackson, Miller, Reynolds, Novak, Chen—with me. Rest of you, secure the lobby."
Five guys peeled off.
But the leader didn't just take Dr. Patterson and me.
His eyes scanned the crowd. Calculating.
"You." He pointed at the young nurse who'd been cowering by the reception desk. "And you. You. You."
He kept pointing. Selecting people at random.
An elderly woman with a walker. A middle-aged man in scrubs. Two teenage boys who looked like brothers. A pregnant woman clutching her stomach. A hospital security guard. A maintenance worker in a blue uniform.
"What are you doing?" Dr. Patterson's voice cracked. "They have nothing to do with this—"
"Insurance." The leader smiled coldly.
Ten of us total. Including Dr. Patterson and me.
The five terrorists surrounded us. Guns raised.
"Single file. Anyone tries to run, everyone dies. Move."
We started walking. Through the lobby. Down a hallway.
The pregnant woman was crying softly. The elderly woman with the walker was moving too slowly.
"Pick her up," the leader ordered.
The maintenance worker hesitated. Then grabbed the elderly woman. Carried her.
I was in the middle of the line. The leader kept his gun on me specifically. Other hand gripping my arm.
I memorized the layout. Noted every exit, every corner, every potential weapon.
Behind us, I could hear the remaining terrorists shouting at people. Keeping them in line.
A kid started crying.
"Shut that kid up or I will!"
The mother's panicked voice. Trying to quiet her son.
We turned a corner. The hallway was empty. Sterile white walls. Fluorescent lights.
Dr. Patterson was walking slowly. Each step deliberate.
Stalling.
The leader noticed too.
"Pick up the pace, Doc."
"I'm going as fast as I can. I'm sixty-seven years old and you cracked my skull open—"
"You'll be a sixty-seven-year-old corpse if you don't move faster."
Dr. Patterson stumbled. Caught himself on the wall.
The leader stopped. Looked at his guys.
"Miller."
Miller grabbed a nurse who was hiding in a supply closet. Dragged her out.
She was young. Mid-twenties. Terrified.
"No, please—"
Miller put his rifle to her head.
The leader looked at Dr. Patterson.
"Every time you slow down, someone dies. Your choice."
Dr. Patterson's face crumpled. "You monster."
"I'm a businessman. Now move."
We kept walking. Dr. Patterson was moving faster now.
We reached the elevators.
The leader pressed the button. Nothing happened.
He tried again. Still nothing.
"They cut the power," Miller said.
"Then we take the stairs."
We headed for the stairwell. The door was heavy. Reinforced.
The leader pushed it open. Gestured with his gun.
"After you, Doc."
Dr. Patterson started climbing. One hand on the railing. Moving slowly.
The leader kept his gun on me. Following close behind.
The four guys spread out. Two in front. Two behind.
We climbed. One floor. Two floors. Three.
Dr. Patterson was breathing hard. Sweating.
"How much further?" the leader asked.
"Top floor. Two more flights."
"Pick it up."
We kept climbing.
At the fifth-floor landing, Dr. Patterson stopped.
"I need to rest. Just for a minute—"
"No."
"I'm having chest pains—"
The leader pointed at the young nurse Miller was still holding.
Miller didn't hesitate. Shot her in the leg.
She screamed. Collapsed.
"Keep moving, Doc."
Dr. Patterson stared at the bleeding nurse. His face went gray.
"You didn't have to—"
"Next one's through her heart. Move."
My mind was cataloging everything. The stairwell layout. The positions of the guards. The weapons.
The leader's grip on my arm was tight. But not professional.
He was overconfident. Thought I was just some scared pregnant girl.
We stopped at a massive door at the end of the hallway. Brushed steel. No handle. Just a biometric panel.
The leader shoved me forward. Gun still pressed against my skull.
"Open it."
Dr. Patterson was breathing hard. Blood from his head wound had dried on his face.
He stepped up to the panel. Leaned close.
The retinal scanner activated. Blue light swept across his eye.
A beep. Green light.
"Retinal scan accepted. Proceed to fingerprint verification."
Patterson lifted his hand toward the scanner.
That's when I heard it. Faint but getting louder.
Helicopter blades. Cutting through the air.
Then a voice. "THIS IS THE FBI. RELEASE THE HOSTAGES. WE CAN NEGOTIATE—"
The announcement cut off mid-sentence.
Around me, the other hostages straightened up. Hope flickering in their eyes.
Patterson's hand hovered over the scanner. Shaking.
He pressed his thumb down.
Nothing.
The panel flashed red. "Fingerprint not recognized. Please try again."
"What's the problem?" The leader's voice went cold.
"I... my hand is sweating." Patterson pulled back. Wiped his palm on his pants. "Just need to—"
"Try again."
Patterson pressed his thumb down. Harder this time.
Red light. "Fingerprint not recognized."
"Are you fucking with me, Doc?"
"No! I swear, it's just—"
The leader turned. Looked at his guys.
"Miller. Reynolds. Novak."
All three raised their rifles.
Aimed at the hostages kneeling in the hallway.
"Wait—" Patterson started.
Three shots. Three bodies hit the floor.
"Stop!" Patterson's voice cracked. Desperate. "Please, just stop! I'm not stalling!"
He was shaking. Full body tremors. Wiping his hands frantically on his pants.
"Two more," the leader said calmly. "Miller."
Miller aimed at a young woman. Crying silently.
"No no no—" Patterson was nearly sobbing now. "Please, I'll get it, just give me one more—"
"Jackson."
Jackson aimed at an elderly man in a wheelchair.
The hallway went dead silent. Just Patterson's ragged breathing.
He pressed his thumb to the scanner.
His hand was still shaking. But he held it there. Steady as he could.
The seconds stretched out.
Nobody moved. Nobody breathed.
Then—
A beep.
Green light.
"Access granted."
The lock disengaged with a heavy click.
Patterson nearly collapsed against the door.
The leader smiled. "See? That wasn't so hard."
He pushed Patterson forward. The door swung open.