Boss | Book 1| Complete

~3~

Calliope

I groaned – the sound of a beeping monitor pulling me out of sleep. My back was stiff, and my shoulder burned in crippling agony.

My eyes shot wide, my most recent memory coming to the fore. I had been surrounded by a small army, held at gunpoint. Multiple gunpoints, actually. I remembered him the most, though. Their leader.

With dark hair, hazel eyes, and sharp features, he had been breathtaking. The most beautiful man I had ever laid eyes on. His attractiveness did little to hide just how terrifying he was, though. Power and dominance had radiated off him, making the air crackle around us.

I couldn't remember anything beyond his last words: You can clearly hold your own.

Forcing my eyes open, I blinked against the white fluorescent lights. The ceilings weren't opaque like I expected them to be, so I wasn't in a hospital. They were high, with pipes and other structures running across them.

Turning my head to the side, I found the monitor that wouldn't stop beeping. Wrapped tightly around my right bicep was a blood pressure cuff, and a pulse oximeter rested on the index finger of my right hand. I tried to reach for it with my left arm and immediately winced, not met by resistance but a white-hot stabbing sensation.

I had to take a minute to catch my breath before I pushed through it, pulling the cuff and O2 monitor off. An IV was in my vein, right in the crook of my arm, so I pulled that out too, grinding my teeth against the discomfort. The monitor started to beep erratically, probably assuming I had died since it couldn't detect my pulse anymore.

At that moment, a memory flashed across my mind. The three men I'd killed, one after the other. Bile rose in my throat as I recalled the way the life left their eyes when I pulled the trigger once, twice, three times. I had used one of them as a human shield. God. My stomach rolled and I swallowed the bitter acid that threatened to escape me. I shook the images away, reminding myself it had to be done. It was self-defense – them or me.

I would always choose me.

I pushed myself into a sitting position, all the while clenching my jaw against the steady pain in my left shoulder. It was then that I realized my wound had been dressed and a sling held my arm in place. My jeans and T-shirt were gone, replaced by a thin hospital gown.

I quickly took in my surroundings. I appeared to be in some sort of medical room, but it was clear I wasn't in the emergency room. There were heavy metal doors on either side of the large space and the floors were made of concrete.

I had either been kidnapped by Jigsaw, or I had been taken by the beautiful monster and his army of thugs. I suspected the latter.

At the far end of the room, I noticed a washing station. On the counter sat a large metal tray with an array of surgical tools. I nearly laughed at the irony. The fact that they left me alone with a selection of sharp objects to choose from as my weapon was downright comical.

Throwing the blankets off myself I stepped onto the cold ground and quickly made my way toward the counter. I picked up a scalpel and tested its weight in my hand. It was light, but I knew better than to think that made it any less deadly. These things could slice through flesh like butter.

The heavy doors to my right opened and I immediately took a defensive stance, holding my weapon in front of me with my back to the counter. A young man walked in, dressed in a pair of black scrubs and a white coat. His eyes landed on the empty bed, noticing the IV tube leaking all over the floor. His gaze immediately found mine.

"Good morning," he said cautiously, eyeing the weapon in my hand. "There's no need to be frightened. You're safe here."

I immediately noticed the similarities between this man and the one from last night. It was uncanny. Brothers, perhaps?