Chapter 75 *
Scarlett's POV
My vision blurred. Everything was spinning. I tried to push myself up.
My arms gave out.
Patterson was moving. I could hear him shuffling across the room.
Toward the metal case.
I forced my head up. Watched him through the haze.
He was bent over. Reaching for it. Trying to be quiet.
Like I wouldn't notice.
I gathered what was left of my strength. Lifted my head higher.
Locked eyes with him.
He froze.
My gaze cut through the room like a blade. The kind of look that said: Try it. See what happens.
Patterson's hand hovered over the case. Shaking.
He looked at me. At my eyes.
Whatever he saw there made him pull back.
Fast.
He grabbed the case anyway. Clutched it to his chest like a lifeline.
Backed away from me. Step by step.
His whole body was trembling. Like a rabbit that just realized the wolf was still alive.
"Who are you?" His voice cracked. "What are you?"
I tried to speak. Tasted copper.
Blood filled my mouth. I turned my head. Spit it out.
It splattered on the floor. Dark red. Too much of it.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Looked at him.
"Why do you have Cosmos-1 samples?" My voice came out rough.
Patterson's eyes went wide. His grip on the case tightened.
He turned his head. Looked away.
"I'm not answering that."
I felt something hot rise in my chest. Anger. Frustration.
This man was hiding something. Something big.
And I needed to know what.
I looked around. Spotted the knife on the floor.
The one I'd used on the leader.
Still covered in blood.
I reached for it. My shoulder screamed in protest.
I ignored it. Grabbed the handle.
Pulled myself to my feet.
My legs shook. Everything hurt.
But I stayed upright.
Started walking toward him.
One step. Then another.
The knife dripped blood as I moved. Each drop hit the floor with a soft sound.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Patterson backed up. Hit the wall.
Nowhere left to go.
I stopped in front of him. Looked down.
The knife caught the light. I saw my reflection in the blade.
My hair was a mess. Tangled. Matted with blood.
My face was covered in it. Streaks across my cheeks. My forehead.
My shoulder wound was still bleeding. The fabric of my shirt was soaked through.
Dark red. Almost black in places.
Blood dripped from my hand. From the knife.
I looked like something out of a horror movie.
Patterson stared at me. His face had gone white.
"I'll ask you one more time." My voice was quiet. Dangerous. "Why do you have Cosmos-1?"
He pressed himself harder against the wall. Tried to make himself smaller.
But he lifted his chin. Defiant.
"I won't say a word." His voice shook but he meant it. "Kill me if you want. I don't care."
Something twisted in my chest. Pain. Not from the wounds.
From watching this old man choose death over answers.
I felt blood rising in my throat again. Swallowed it back down.
Tasted iron.
I forced myself to stay calm. Lowered the knife slightly.
"I'm not going to kill you."
He didn't believe me. I could see it in his eyes.
"Just tell me the truth," I continued. "Is this your personal research? Or does someone else know about it?"
He clamped his mouth shut. Looked away.
That expression on his face. Like a martyr going to the stake.
Ready to die for his secrets.
I understood then. He wasn't afraid of dying.
He was afraid of getting someone else killed.
The hostages were already dead. He thought I had nothing to hold over him.
No leverage. No reason for him to talk.
I raised the knife again. Let it catch the light.
"Last chance."
Patterson looked at the blade. Then at my face.
His jaw set. Hard.
He leaned forward. Pressed his throat against the edge.
"Then do it." His voice was steady now. "Stop wasting time."
I stared at him. This stubborn old man.
Willing to die rather than talk.
My hand tightened on the knife. I could do it. One quick movement.
But something stopped me.
This wasn't working. Threats weren't working.
He was too committed. Too ready to die.
I needed a different approach.
I lowered the knife. Stepped back.
Let out a long breath.
"I'm with Iron Circle."
Patterson's eyes flicked to me. But he didn't react otherwise.
I kept going. "We're the black ops division for Bethesda Advanced Medical Research Facility. We handle their dirty work."
He didn't even blink. Just looked at me like I was dirt on his shoe.
"You're all the same." His voice was flat. Cold. "You interrupt important work. You steal research. You're no different from the terrorists who just tried to kill me."
I felt a flash of irritation.
When the Bratva guys had him at gunpoint, he'd been begging for his life.
Now he was acting like a hero.
I tried one more time. "Patterson, you don't understandâ€""
"I understand perfectly." He cut me off. "You want what they wanted. The research. You're just better at killing."
I felt my chest tighten. This wasn't going anywhere.
I needed to change tactics.
I looked at him. Really looked at him.
I made a decision. Took a deep breath. Tasted blood again.
"My name is Miranda Quinn."
Nothing. No reaction.
I tried again. "My father was Dr. Simon Quinn."
Patterson's head snapped up.
His eyes went wide. Mouth opening slightly.
He stared at me. Actually looked at me this time.
I nodded. Confirmed it.
"I'm Dr. Simon Quinn's daughter."
The silence stretched out.
Patterson kept staring. His eyes moving over my face.
Like he was trying to find something. Some proof.
"You're lying." But his voice had changed. Less certain now.
"I'm not."
"Simon Quinn never had a daughter." He shook his head. "I would have known. Everyone in the research community would have known."
"Prove it," he said. "If you're really his daughter, prove it."