Chapter 3

The door to my hospital room burst open with such force it slammed against the wall. Cameron stormed in, his face a thunderous mask of rage.

"What did you say to her?" he roared.

He marched to my bed and, without a word, ripped the IV needle from the back of my hand. A sharp sting of pain shot up my arm, and a drop of blood welled up on my skin.

"What the hell, Cameron?" I cried out, more in shock than in pain.

"Hannah tried to kill herself," he snaretok, grabbing my arm. "She slit her wrists. She's in shock, she's lost a lot of blood. They need a transfusion. Now."

My mind went blank. "What does that have to do with me?"

"Don't play dumb, Alicia!" he snarled, his fingers digging into my flesh. "She told me what you said to her. You pushed her to this! You have to fix it. You're the same blood type. You're going to give her your blood."

The sheer audacity of it left me speechless. He was blaming me for his mistress' s staged drama.

"I'm not going anywhere," I said, my voice shaking with fury. "I'm a patient here. I just had a concussion. I can't donate blood."

He let out a harsh, cruel laugh. "Oh, now you're worried about your health? You weren't so worried when you were threatening a fragile, innocent girl, were you? You wanted her to die, didn't you? That' s what this is about."

He accused me of being heartless, of having no regard for human life. The words, coming from him, the man who had systematically destroyed my world just hours before, were so twisted, so profoundly unjust, that I couldn't even form a response.

My trust in him, in the boy I grew up with, in the man I thought I knew, crumbled into dust. It was gone. Forever.

"You're coming with me," he said, his voice dropping to a menacing calm. He didn't wait for an answer. He yanked me out of the bed.

My hospital gown offered little resistance. The world spun as he dragged me, barefoot and dizzy, out of the room and down the hall. I was too weak to fight back effectively.

He shoved me into a private helicopter waiting on the hospital's rooftop helipad. The rotors were already spinning, whipping my hair around my face. The chopper lifted off with a violent jolt, and the city lights below blurred into a dizzying smear. I felt sick, my head pounding in time with the thumping of the blades.

When we landed, he dragged me just as brutally into another hospital. It was a smaller, private clinic. He shoved me into a chair in a stark white collection room. Nurses bustled around, their faces a blur.

"Get her ready," Cameron ordered them.

A cold alcohol swab on my inner elbow shocked me back to my senses. I finally found my voice.

"Cameron, have you lost your mind?" I yelled, trying to wrench my arm away. "You can't do this!"

One of the nurses hesitated, looking from my terrified face to Cameron's furious one. She could see this wasn't right.

"Sir," she said timidly, "we just got a call. The blood bank sent over enough units for Ms. Nichols. We don't need a direct transfusion."

The room fell silent. Cameron's gaze fell on my face, now ghostly pale under the fluorescent lights. For a fraction of a second, his brow furrowed. I saw a flicker of something in his eyes-doubt, maybe even guilt. He saw how sick I looked, how my hand was trembling.

Then, a faint, weak moan came from the room next door.

"Cameron...?"

It was Hannah's voice.

Instantly, the flicker of humanity in Cameron' s eyes vanished. It was replaced by that cold, hard resolve. His focus shifted entirely to her.

He looked at the nurse, his voice devoid of any emotion. "Draw the blood anyway."