Chapter Forty-Seven Faith

It was difficult to know what was going on outside. After Hammond's warning, Faith had retreated into the relative safety of the inner room. She had been joined moments later by an agitated Dr. Sanders.

"Get down." The doctor had thrust Faith into the space behind the bed. "And stay down."

With little choice, Faith had done as she was asked. Sanders had armed herself with a gun from a drawer in the cabinet at the bedside. Then, she had joined Faith. Together, they had waited.

At first, there was only silence. Faith could hear the sound of Sanders' ragged breathing mingling with her own. The woman she was trapped with was frightened. And she did not have Faith's best interests at heart. There was a good chance the Resistance knew Faith was in the Eliot Street warehouse. If they were here to rescue her, she had to let them know her location. But she didn't want to get caught in the cross-fire. For now, staying with Sanders seemed sensible. The doctor would want to keep her alive for the purposes of the experiment, if nothing else.

Faith glanced around her prison. Another way out might allow her to slip away, remove herself from the danger zone. But the room had no windows. The only escape was through the door. And while the femgazipane wasn't having as dramatic an effect on her this time, Faith was still a little disorientated. Rubbing her hands across her face, she tried to focus.

A resounding crash echoed through the warehouse, startling them both. It was quickly followed by the sound of thundering footsteps.

Faith imagined Madeleine, Evelyn, Noah, or Diane bursting in to save her. There was no point in trying to run if the intruders were here to rescue her.

Making a decision, Sanders began to creep towards the door, Faith tensed. Combat did not come naturally to the doctor. She held her gun in front of her, but her hands were shaking.

There was no way Faith could rely on her for protection. But she had limited options for defending herself. On the cabinet beside the bed lay the abandoned syringe. It was still loaded with the metraxilone, its end wickedly sharp.

Checking that Sanders' focus was still on the exit, Faith crept forward. Snatching the syringe, she ducked back behind the safety of the bed. She wasn't well-armed, but the needle was better than nothing. She held it in her fist, ready to stab it into an attacker if necessary.

She turned her attention to Sanders who was reaching for the door handle. But before she could touch it, the door burst open, knocking the weapon out of her hand.

The doctor cried out in pain, cradling her fingers to her chest. The weapon skittered away across the floor, coming to rest in the far corner. Faith eyed it. Was it close enough for her to get to it before the intruder spotted her? She glanced back at the door, but could see no one. The attacker was keeping her distance. For now.

Rallying a little, Sanders made a desperate leap for the gun. Before she could reach it, two shots rang out, deafening in the small space.

Sanders' body jerked in midair. Pulsed twice, as both bullets hit their mark. As Faith retreated behind the bed again, it struck her what an excellent shot the stranger was. There was a sickening thump as Sanders' body hit the ground a few feet away. The doctor lay at an odd angle, not moving. A small trickle of blood leaked from a wound in her head.

"Enemy down." The voice was harsh, and eerily familiar. "A medic, by the looks of things. Checking the rest of the room."

As a pair of heavy boots tramped in, Faith realised who the voice belonged to.

Sarah Porter.

Which meant the people invading the warehouse were Jacob and his group. Not allies. Sliding the syringe into the pocket of her gown, Faith steeled herself to face the woman who had held her captive once before.