Page 96 of Maddening Fixation

He paused to steady his breathing.

“The code is four... seven... two... nine.”

“I’ll be right back,” I said, already turning toward the warehouse.

“You stay exactly where you are.”

As though that were even possible in his condition.

I sprinted toward the warehouse.

The massive steel doors stood partially open.

Inside, darkness swallowed almost everything beyond the entrance.

My footsteps echoed across the concrete floor.

One locker.

Two.

Three.

The black duffel sat exactly where he’d said it would.

My fingers punched in the code.

The lock clicked open.

Inside lay neatly packed emergency medical supplies alongside several items I deliberately chose not to inspect too closely.

I grabbed the bag and ran back outside.

Romeo had somehow managed to drag himself against the warehouse wall.

A crimson trail marked the path he’d crawled.

He looked even paler now.

One trembling hand held the phone against his ear.

“I’ve been attacked,” he said hoarsely. “I’m at Warehouse Six.”

He paused, drawing a labored breath before continuing.

“Get here before I pass out.”

The phone slipped from his grasp, clattering onto the asphalt.

I dropped to my knees beside him.

The metallic scent of blood saturated the cold night air, so thick it settled at the back of my throat.

I forced myself to ignore it.

Panic had no place here.

Opening the black duffel bag, I worked almost instinctively, my hands moving with the quiet confidence that came from years of standing beside the Sokolov family’s private physicians.