Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 140780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Perhaps that was the reason I burned all the time—my immune system was trying to melt it out of my body.
His touch spread wider, feathering out from the vitalsync as if he could trace the wires beneath my skin.
I held my breath, fighting the urge to rip his throat out—
Straps biting into my wrists and ankles.
The stink of antiseptic clogging my throat.
Hands.
Far, far too many hands pinning my shoulders as I thrashed and screamed.
I didn’t want to be here.
I missed my parents.
I wanted to go home.
Father said we’d go back soon.
He promised.
A man leaned over me in a mask and ordered them to hold me still.
He cut—
I choked as the past dissolved.
My muscles went rigid beneath Roger’s exploratory touch—my skin stinging as if I’d been flayed.
Whisper roared, picking up on my stress. Leaping forward, his muscles coiled to pounce.
“Don’t!” Jack-knifing upward, I shoved the doctor away and made eye contact with the livid panther. “I’m fine. It wasn’t him.”
His tail whipped, and for a second, it looked like he’d ignore me but—
“Come here, kitty cat,” Rook cooed softly. “Come on.”
Incredibly, his hackles smoothed and his body uncoiled. With a pitiful chuff, he slinked to her side.
Whispering something to the creature, Rook guided him to the small bench by the door where her rucksack waited. Sitting down, she stayed there for a second before dropping to her knees and pulling Whisper close. “I’ll hold onto the furry protection detail. Just concentrate on what you’re doing. If there’s a way to get Lucien free from the cuffs and the pacemaker, then do it. But...please make it quick.”
Roger exhaled slowly and moved hesitantly back toward me. I had to admit, he had a good bedside manner. He never moved too fast, always methodical and calm. It granted me a false sense of peace that he could help me, even though I had no idea how.
“Grab that lamp, will you, Harry?” He pointed at the floor lamp with cream tassels.
Harry went to claim the fixture, dragging it into place directly over my face. Plugging it into a closer socket, he blinded me—drenching my chest with warm light as the vitalsync core glittered like treasure buried in my flesh.
Roger leaned in, close enough that I could feel the heat of his breath, his neck pulsating with every beat of his heart.
I suddenly felt very homicidal.
“What the hell is this thing?”
I let him study it, my entire body crawling.
“What does it do to you?” Harry asked, joining the investigation.
Balling my hands, I spoke through clenched teeth. “It drugs me.”
“No.” The older doctor shook his head. “No, that’s not possible. It would have to have a storage component and be regularly topped up to drug you. Did they top it up?”
I frowned. “No.”
“Well then. It’s not drugs.”
My mind raced.
What the hell did that mean?
How was Marcus hurting me all these years?
“But it feels as if my system is drenched with poison. Like venom is being injected directly into my nervous system. It knocks me out cold when it gets to a certain level.”
The two men shared a look. “That definitely correlates to how electromagnetic pulses can override the heart. It causes cardiac distress and is often described as burning agony.”
Rook made a soft noise that tugged at the very heart they discussed.
Doing my best not to look in her direction, I snapped, “How do you propose to stop it then?”
“I might have an idea.” Roger straightened his spine, working out a crick in his neck. “Or at least, I hope I do.”
“Can you remove it, after all?”
“Oh no.” He crossed his arms with a scowl, my blood morbidly bright on his white sleeves. “It can’t be removed. Harry and I are emergency surgeons. We’re capable of dealing with all kinds of trauma, but you need a cardiologist and probably a biotech specialist to survive that kind of procedure.”
My temper steadily rose. “Then what do you propose to do about it?”
“It can’t be removed but...perhaps I can disable it.”
“What does that mean?”
“I can see what you’re thinking, Roger, but are you sure it’s frequency based?” Harry asked. “Not chemical? Because if we get that wrong, we’ll kill him.”
Roger dragged a hand down his face, rubbing away his exhaustion. “There’s no reservoir. No ports. No refill mechanism.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s not drug-mediated,” Harry shot back. “Microdosing could—”
“I don’t think it is. Look at the tissue response.” He angled the floor lamp a little further down my body, spotlighting my chest. “There’s chronic inflammation but no necrosis. Whatever this thing is doing, it’s signalling, not secreting.”
Harry frowned and crouched to see from another angle. “You’re saying it’s a weaponised pacemaker?”
“Sounds rather brutal.” Roger shuddered. “However, if it’s frequency-based then—”
“It can be disrupted,” Harry cut in.
“I was thinking frying it would be better.”
Harry’s gaze lifted slowly to Roger’s. “Defibrillation?”
Roger didn’t answer immediately. He just stared at the vitalsync core, jaw set, and eyes calculating. “A high-energy pulse could overload the transmitter.”