Chapter 65 Damsel In Distress

Chapter 65 Damsel In Distress
Sable POV

I zip up my navy responders jacket, checking the radio clipped to my shoulder.

Drazen is standing by the windows, but he isn't looking at the morning sky.His eyes are tracking the tiniest of movements of the traffic
on the street sixty stories down. He has been pacing the floor since dawn, forced to watch me walk out the front door.

"You have the burner phone," he says and it isn't a question.

"Left pocket. Fully charged." I pull my hair back into a tight ponytail.

He turns away from the glass, crosses the living room and stops right in front of me. The memory of last night keeps replaying in my head. I know he can feel it too all thanks to the Hearthblood.

This time, he doesn't cross the line. Instead of a kiss I so desperately wanted but couldn't ask for, he reaches out and adjusts the collar of my
jacket. His knuckles brush the bare skin of my neck. A deliberate, agonizingly slow touch that makes my pulse spike.

"You do not deviate from your assigned patrol grid," he instructs, his voice low and tight. "You do not walk to your vehicle alone. If your driver takes a detour, you press the panic button on the burner, and I will have an extraction team there in three minutes. Do you understand?"

"I understand." I say almost breathless. All what he just said flies over my head because my mind is occupied with other thoughts.

He drops his hand, though his eyes linger on my mouth for a second too long. "Come back to us, Sable. Please. I don't know what I'll do if I lose you."

"I will." Even though I know he's serious, the thoughts of him doing things to me cloud my mind.

Thirty minutes later, after a lot of mental talk and pulling myself together, I am walking through the sliding glass doors of City General.

The harsh lights and the smell of industrial bleach hit my nose almost immediately. A week ago, this hospital was my entire world. Now, it feels like a flimsy movie set where I'm forced to act in. I swipe my badge at the security desk and head straight for the third-floor supply annex.

The badge gives me tier-one access. I scan it at the heavy electronic door, wait for the green light, and step inside the pharmacy storage room.

I pull a canvas duffel bag from my locker and start moving down the aisles. I work fast, grabbing four tubes of silver burn cream for the raw, torn skin around Sera’s half-retracted scales. I move to the respiratory shelf, loading up on broad-spectrum antibiotics and heavy-duty inhaled corticosteroids.

Jonah texted me this morning on the secure line. Three commoner dragons managed to slip past Carvek’s lockdown last night, their lungs failing from centuries of volcanic dust and the stress of the surface air. They need human medicine, and I am the only one who can steal it.

I zip the bag shut, hoist it over my shoulder, and take the service elevator down to the ambulance bay.

The bay is loud, echoing with diesel engines and shouting dispatchers. Jonah is leaning against the back bumper of Unit 4, filling out a clipboard. I walk over, dropping the bag near his boots.

He immediately nudges the bag with his foot, shielding it from the view of the bay supervisor. "Got the burn cream?"

"Enough to last Sera a month," I say, keeping my voice low. "How are the defectors?"

"Stable. I set up a safe house in an abandoned rail yard depot outside the city. The steroids should keep their airways open until Drazen figures out how to take his throne back." he clicks his pen, signing the bottom of his manifest. "Chloe helped me set up the cots last night."

I blink. "You brought Chloe to the safe house?"

"No, no. I just had her buy the cots and drop them off at my apartment. I told her it was for a charity drive." he smiles, shaking his head. "She’s been asking about you, actually."

"About me?"

"Yeah. She wanted to know your new work schedule. She thinks you're overworking yourself with the promotion and wanted to drop a casserole off at your apartment." He laughs softly. "I had to tell her you're practically living out of the rig this week to keep her from showing up."

A pang of guilt hits my chest.

Three days ago, I was ready to accuse Chloe of being a hunter simply because she wore a popular perfume. Meanwhile, she is buying cots for my charity cover story and trying to bring me dinner. Drazen’s paranoia is infectious, and I hate that I let it make me suspect an innocent, supportive woman.

"Tell her thank you," I say, offering a small smile. "Also add that I owe her a drink when things settle down."

"Will do." he kicks the bag underneath his stretcher. "Stay safe out there, partner."

"You too."

I step away from his rig and walk across toward my assigned vehicle. The morning air is crisp. A pair of sanitation workers are power-washing near the visitor parking structure. A delivery truck is idling near the loading dock.

Everything looks perfectly, boringly normal.

I reach into my pocket for my keys. As I pull them out, the wind shifts, blowing across the loading dock toward the ambulance bay.

And my hand freezes on the plastic key.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up as the Hearthblood in my lower
spine comes alive.

With everything happening, I don't stop walking. I force my legs to keep going, although my eyes dart to my right and left.

Fifty feet away, a man in gray maintenance coveralls is emptying a trash can near the parking structure. He is holding a plastic bag, but his posture is completely wrong. His shoulders are rigid and his boots aren't rubber work boots; they look almost like reinforced black tactical gear.

He turns his head slightly and I catch a glimpse of his ear. He isn't wearing a bluetooth headset for music but a clear, coiled acoustic earpiece.

Worst part, he is looking directly at my vehicle.

Drazen was right. The club footage did leak and they somehow managed to map out his associates. Which can only mean one thing.

The Hunters are watching the hospital.