Chapter 5

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“Our Father, Who art in heaven,

Hallowed be Thy Name.

Thy Kingdom come.

Thy Will be done,

on earth as it is in Heaven...”

I blinked and forced my eyes open, the bright lights of the hospital room assaulting my vision.

“That bullshit again?” I murmured.

The idiot had been spewing the same crap all fucking morning.

I shot the soldier a contemptuous look, my words cutting through him like a knife, his eyes welling up with tears as he struggled to hold back his pain. I had zero patience left for this shit, definitely not in the mood to listen to his delusions.

“If your God’s so loving and merciful, then why the fuck are you stuck in a hospital bed?”

He flinched like I’d slapped him, couldn’t even look me in the eye. “Because it is God’s will,” he answered quietly.

I turned away from him, oozing with disgust as I spoke. “Your God failed you.”

The dude shrank into himself like he was trying to disappear. He took a shaky breath, voice barely a whisper when he finally replied, “He did not fail me. To believe in God is to accept His judgment, no matter what.”

I scowled, his pathetic words doing nothing but piss me off more. “Faith is nothing more than blind obedience. Where is the justice in your God allowing you to suffer?” I replied curtly.

“God works in mysterious ways,” he whispered like he was reading from a Hallmark card.

“Or does he simply enjoy watching us suffer?” I said coldly. “What a sick game he must be playing.”

The soldier’s eyes filled with tears, ready to spill over. His voice was shaking like a leaf as he tried to push through.

“Justice is for mortals to seek. My Lord has a plan, and we must have faith in that.”

I stared at him, incredulous. His words were bullshit, and he knew it. “Plans do not involve suffering,” I snapped irritably. “All your faith has done is allowed you to be a passive bystander to your own misfortune.”

My words hung heavy in the air, like a venomous serpent poised to strike.

And I couldn’t be righter.

I shook my head, fed up, turning away from him. But that’s when things went to shit. His body started shaking, his hands flailing like he was having a damn seizure. The heart monitor next to his bed went nuts, blaring like a fucking fire alarm.

Chaos exploded as the staff rushed in, feet clattering on the cold, sterile floor. Alarms, frantic voices, the whole place was a damn madhouse.

I watched him twitching like a puppet on strings, limbs jerking while the doctors tried to pull him back from the brink. It was just more proof of what I’d always known—there’s no merciful god watching over us, no guardian angel coming to save our sorry asses from this hellhole. We’re on our own in this fucked-up world.

“Charge to 200! Clear!” One of the doctors shouted.

Silence fell for a second as they pressed the paddles to his chest, and his body jolted with the shock. For a moment, it arched up, then collapsed back down, limp as a rag doll.

“We’re losing him!” a doctor yelled, his voice cracking with frustration.

They kept working on him, desperate to save his doomed ass. The monitor kept beeping, confirming what I already knew—he was on his way out.

“Time of death... 03:42 P.M.”

The room went dead silent. The medical team let out a collective sigh, defeated. Another pointless battle lost.

After they hauled his lifeless body out, I was alone. Finally. The silence was a fucking relief. I sat up, gritting my teeth as a wave of sharp pain tore through my busted-up body. My mind was racing, trying to figure out my next move. I wasn’t sticking around this shithole any longer than I had to. There were still battles to fight.

And a snitch that needed dealing with.

I gritted my teeth, reaching down to yank out the damn catheter they’d stuck in me. The second I did, pain shot through me like I’d been kicked in the gut with a steel boot. I cursed under my breath, trying not to double over. No painkillers in this shithole, of course—just my luck. Not like it’d kill them to throw a guy a few pills to take the edge off.

Swallowing back another round of curses, I swung my legs over the bed, testing if I could stand. Every muscle screamed in agony as I got to my feet, shaky as fuck, like some drunk asshole. The room was suffocatingly small, with sterile white walls and no sign of life. Just counters lined with shiny medical crap. The smell of disinfectant hit my nose, sharp and nasty, stinging like they’d soaked the whole damn place in bleach.

The room itself was small as hell, closing in on me like some kind of prison. No windows to see the outside world, just a single door that could be my way out. The absence of natural light only made me feel more isolated, disconnected from the reality beyond these walls.

I knew jack shit about this medical camp. They’d brought me in unconscious, so I hadn’t seen a damn thing except sterile walls and a handful of nurses who looked at me like I was more trouble than I was worth. The U.S. Army had a whole network of these med camps scattered around, set up for wounded soldiers like me who’d barely made it through whatever hellhole we’d been dropped into. But these places weren’t under our command’s jurisdiction, at least not fully.

My captain could give orders back at the base, sure, but here? Here, the authority rested with a bunch of doctors and some pencil-pushing general who didn’t give a damn about our chain of command. So technically, I was under their watch until they said otherwise.

I knew that walking out could get me reported in a heartbeat. They’d probably radio it in the second I stepped out of the tent, filing me under “non-compliant” or some bullshit like that. But I’d bet by the time any word reached my captain’s ears, I’d be halfway back to base. Let them file whatever they wanted—I’d deal with it when it came. All I had to go on were the sounds, the whispers, and the occasional peek through half-open doors. Each step I took around this tiny room, my blood pounded so hard, I couldn’t tell if it was adrenaline or rage at this point. Either way, the night would be my best cover.

Time to take matters into my own hands.

I glanced at the clock on the wall, my eyes narrowing as I saw the hour hand pointing to 10 P.M. With a grimace of pain, I pushed myself up from the bed, my wounded abdomen screaming in protest. I was pissed off—no spare clothes, no options, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to run butt-ass naked down the hallway like a fucking idiot.

Then my eyes landed on the dead guy’s stuff. Still sitting there untouched. Impatience gnawed at me—fuck it, I needed to get out of here. No time for respect or decency, so I shuffled over to his bed, my legs still feeling wobbly as I adjusted to actually moving. I rummaged through his shit, found a ratty-ass t-shirt and some cargo pants. Whatever, it’d have to do. I yanked on his boots, but they were tight as hell, a size too small. The shirt strained across my chest, like it was begging to rip, and the pants hugged my thighs uncomfortably. Tight enough that I couldn’t move freely, but I wasn’t about to get picky.

As I pulled everything on, every movement was stiff, my muscles unused to doing much more than lying around. The pain in my stomach flared like a bitch with every adjustment, but I gritted my teeth and kept going. While I was fiddling with the pants, my hand brushed against something in the pocket—a penknife. The handle was worn from use, but the blade looked sharp enough to be useful.

I smirked, feeling like fate just handed me a small, sharp gift. Sure as hell gonna put this to good use.

Once I was dressed, the tension eased a little, but the ache in my gut didn’t let up. I took a second to steady myself, focus up. Just as I reached for the door, voices echoed from the hallway, getting louder by the second. Perfect fucking timing. I cursed under my breath and scrambled back to the bed, pulling the sheets up to my chin, trying to look like I wasn’t wearing a dead man’s clothes.

I clenched my fists in frustration, listening to the voices outside get closer. I didn’t need this shit right now.

“Dylan, I don’t want to see you right now,” a woman said adamantly.

“Please, just give me a chance to explain,” some guy was begging, sounding pathetic as hell.

“Not now, not here. Give me some space.”

He was persistent, no doubt. He replied, his voice sounding a bit frustrated.

“Come on, baby,” the man said, sounding like he was struggling to stay calm.

A loud thudding came from the door, followed by the woman’s voice again.

“ I’ve heard enough of your excuses!” she spat.

“Damn it, woman, I’m not leaving until you listen to me!” His frustration turned to anger, the conversation getting heated as fuck.

What started as a distant argument was slowly turning into a heated confrontation.

“Don’t touch me!” she cried out.

Then the door flew open, and someone stormed into the room. The door slammed behind them, locking with a sharp click. I stayed still, pretending to sleep, the room now drenched in darkness except for the faint glow of a neon light casting shadows.

My eyes shifted to the woman who’d just walked in, her fiery red hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, and an expression that screamed devastation. First time since I’d been shot that I wasn’t fully absorbed in my pain, and, of course, I had to notice her.

Bad fucking idea.

Her eyes were bloodshot, clearly exhausted, but it was her outfit that had my blood pumping for a whole different reason. That tight tank top clung to her curves, showing off every inch of her body, and those shorts hugged her hips, leaving her long, slender legs on full display. All I could think about was having those legs wrapped around me while I fucked her senseless.

It wasn’t about her. It was the sheer starvation of touch, of intimacy, in a hellhole where blood and sweat were the only constants. But right now, with her like this, I couldn’t ignore the pull. My gaze lingered, tracing the curve of her shoulder, her collarbone, then drifting down, unbidden, to the way the fabric clung around her chest. I knew I shouldn’t let my thoughts go there—but her low-cut shirt, those bare thighs, the way she moved, casually shifting her weight—it drove something primal in me.

I couldn’t stop staring, imagining all the things I’d do to her, my mind running wild with filthy thoughts. The urge to ravage her, to claim her, was strong. God, it would be so easy to reach over, to let my hands find those curves I’d been stealing glances at for days now.

But I forced myself to shove it down, keeping it hidden under the covers. This wasn’t the time, and sure as hell wasn’t the place.

Then her sobs broke through my lust-filled haze, snapping me back to reality. She was a fucking mess, tears streaming down her face, and it hit me like cold water. This wasn’t about me or my desires. There was some serious shit going on with her.

As much as I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to care. Yeah, her tears made me uncomfortable, but it wasn’t like I was gonna suddenly play hero or comfort her. No, I was just waiting for her to either leave or pull herself together so I could get on with my plans. All her emotional breakdown did was kill my mood, my desires fading into the background.

I didn’t feel any sympathy or connection to her. I just wanted her to either fuck off or let me focus on what I had to do next. Whatever she was dealing with, it wasn’t my problem.

I watched as Red, the woman I recognized now, moved across the room like she didn’t have a care in the world. She went straight to a medical cabinet, popped it open with a key, and grabbed a tube of pills. No hesitation, no shame. Just popped one into her mouth and turned away, like she didn’t just fuckin’ medicate herself in the middle of whatever shitstorm she’s dealing with.

Trust me, Red, been there, done that.

Quick fix for a deeper problem.

Well, seemed like she gave me no choice.

I dragged myself out of bed, wincing at the pain tearing through my gut, moving as quietly as I could. I got close, real close, sneaking up behind her. The moment she turned around, I pressed the penknife against her throat, just enough for her to feel the danger. Her eyes went wide, fear snapping across her face, but she kept it together. No screaming, no sudden moves. Smart girl.

“Hello, Doc,” I whispered fiercely into her ear, my voice a low, menacing growl.

I didn’t give a shit about her feelings. I grabbed her by the shoulders, spun her around, and slammed her back against the wall, the knife pressing harder into her neck. She tensed, and I could feel her body stiffen, instincts telling her to run or fight. But she knew better—resisting me would just make things worse.

I moved my face right up against hers, looking directly into her eyes with a cold, expressionless stare.

“You’re going to do as I say,” I hissed, the threat hanging in the air. She didn’t need me to spell it out. She knew.

“Harper, open the damn door!”

The asshole outside was getting louder, his rage boiling over as he pounded on the door like a goddamn maniac.

Red didn’t even flinch. She’d clearly heard this shit a million times before. Her face stayed blank, completely unfazed, eyes glued to me like the bastard outside didn’t exist.

“You’re gonna tell that prick to fuck off,” I said in a harsh whisper. “I don’t care how you do it, but make sure he leaves.”

The guy outside wasn’t done yet. His voice got louder, his threats starting to escalate.

“Open this door, or I swear I’ll break it down! You can’t hide from me forever!”

My finger tightening around the handle of the penknife, I gave the blade a slight nudge against her throat.

“After that, you’ll escort me to the nearest exit and vouch for me if the situation requires you to do so.”

This was not a request, but an ultimatum.

Red’s eyes widened like a scared little rabbit. The weight of my demands pressed down on her, the gravity of the situation sinking deep into her bones.

“If you yell or try to stop me, well...” I let the words hang in the air. She knew what I meant.

A twisted satisfaction ran through me as she nodded, scared out of her mind. The knife stayed pressed to her neck, grazing her skin just enough to keep her on edge. My grip didn’t waver. She needed to understand who was in charge.

“I... I’ll tell him,” she stammered, barely able to meet my eyes. “I’ll make sure he leaves.”

“Good girl,” I replied low and gravelly.

I loosened my hold on the knife, giving her a moment to breathe, but the darkness still clung to me. I wasn’t about to let up. I’d do whatever it took to get out of here.

She reached for the door, but I grabbed her wrist, stopping her. For a brief second, I felt an urge to wipe the tears from her face, to touch her skin. But I pushed that shit down, hard. No time for that. I couldn’t let my guard down. Not now.

I pressed a finger to her lips, silencing whatever she was about to say.

“Make it fast,” I told her calmly, but with a deadly undertone. “I don’t have time to waste.”

This wasn’t some emotional moment. It was a power play, pure and simple. I had control, and I wasn’t about to let her forget it.

Red’s gaze met mine, resignation mirrored in her eyes. She knew there was no way out. No choice but to do what I said. She swallowed hard, opened the door, and light spilled into the room. I stayed hidden, my senses sharp, ready for whatever came next.

This was the moment I thrived on—the predator in me waiting, claws out, ready to strike if needed.