Chapter 8 - The Past Catches UpAll eyes snapped from Victor Thorne to Avery.
Grant stared at her, shock flickering across his face. “Is that true?”
Avery stood frozen, her hands gripping the edge of the table. The ghosts of her past—the hospital administrators who framed her for a drug-diverting scandal she fought to expose, the hospital records that had been quietly sealed to protect rich donors—came rushing back in a suffocating wave. She had buried that life in Manhattan, scrubbing tables and pouring wine just to earn an honest living without looking over her shoulder.
Thorne stepped closer, his voice smooth and venomous, playing to the crowd and the arriving media crews outside the glass windows.
“You see, gentlemen,” Thorne announced loudly, turning to the surrounding diners and police officers. “Miss Cole here isn’t a hero. She’s a liability. Who knows what was actually in that auto-injector she administered? For all we know, she could have accelerated his heart failure under the guise of saving him. I move that we detain her immediately pending a federal pharmaceutical audit.”
Two police officers exchanged uneasy glances, stepping forward toward Avery.
“Miss Cole, please step away from the table,” the lead officer instructed cautiously.
Avery looked down at her hands—hands that had just saved a man’s life, now trembling not from fear, but from the agonizing sting of betrayal. She closed her eyes, prepared to surrender to the familiar, crushing weight of injustice.
“Touch her, and I will personally dismantle your entire precinct before midnight,” a voice rang out.
May you like
It wasn’t a shout.
It was quiet, heavy, and dripping with absolute, lethal authority.
