Page 65 of Twisted Steel

I swallow.“That’s not comforting either.”

“I told you.Not my job.”

A nurse walks past, pushing a medication cart.Nothing unusual.Blue scrubs.Mask tucked under chin.Badge clipped at the waist.

Except Raven goes still and so do the guards.I don’t understand why at first.Then I see it.The nurse’s shoes, heavy black boots under scrubs, not hospital shoes.

My stomach turns cold as the fake nurse glances toward the surgical wing doors.

Dante.

Raven stands slowly.

“Harper,” she says, voice casual enough to be terrifying.“Come with me.”

The fake nurse’s hand dips toward the cart, and the red-bearded guard moves while the younger one reaches for his jacket.Everything happens at once.

The fake nurse shoves the cart hard, sending it crashing into the younger guard.Metal slams, medications scatter, and a syringe flashes in his hand.

Not at me.At the surgical wing keypad.

Dante.

“Oh, fuck no,” I snap.

I lunge before my common sense can file a complaint but Raven gets there first.

She slams the man’s wrist against the wall, and the syringe drops.He twists, fast and vicious, and catches her in the shoulder with an elbow.Raven grunts, then drives her knee up into his groin with enough force to make every man in the hallway emotionally reconsider his life choices.

The attacker folds, and the red-bearded guard hits him from the side, pinning him to the floor.

I grab the syringe with a gloved hand from a nearby supply tray because apparently my trauma response now includes evidence management.

Raven presses a hand to her shoulder and looks down at the man.“Really?Scrubs and murder boots?Amateur hour.”

My heart beats so hard I can feel it in my teeth.Security rushes in.Nurses shout.Someone calls a code I’m not sure exists for biker assassination in the surgical hallway.

Raven looks at me.“Are you okay?”

I stare at her.“You just took down a fake nurse.”

“Technically, the floor helped.”

“He was going after Dante.”

“Yes.”

“Reaper sent him.”

“Probably.”

The red-bearded guard checks the man’s pockets and pulls out a phone.It starts ringing instantly because apparently Reaper has committed to theatre as a lifestyle.

Raven takes the phone, looks at me, and answers on speaker.No one tells her not to.

A wet laugh crawls through the line.“Wrong girl,” Raven says.

Silence.Followed by Reaper’s voice, amused and cold.“Raven Blackwood.I heard you were still breathing.”