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SNEED WAS AN asshole, to put it lightly. He'd been Jack's adversary ever since he'd stepped foot in the hospital, lost and alone. All Sneed cared about was praise and power. He didn't care if his patients survived. He didn't care if his patients bled out on the table in front of their families. All Sneed worried about was beating Jack at his own game, and everyone was sick of it.
Jack sneered behind the window that looked into the operating theatre. Sneed opened his arms, presenting the bleeding woman seconds from death to the crowd as if she were nothing but a mannequin. Hetty kept glancing back at Jack, her eyes flickering between the two surgeons. Jack scoffed.
"Bloody coin toss," he tsked beneath his breath as he crossed his arms, trying to conserve his anger. Hetty sent one final glance his way before huffing and walking back into the preparation room.
"He's going to fail," Jack told her, his stare at the man failing to falter. Hetty's worry only grew.
"Uh, Jack-"
"Have you seen Rue recently?" Jack asked, sparing a quick glance her way. "She went with you earlier, did she not?"
Hetty swallowed, nodding curtly. "I was in a rush."
Jack furrowed his brows. He turned towards her, his tight arms softening. "What are you getting at?" He asked slowly.
Hetty looked away. She shut her eyes, her heart thumping wildly. She was embarrassed and annoyed at herself, but it was the guilt that caused her troubles. The neverendless, destructive guilt. Why was she there in the hospital without her? Where was she? Was she okay? Hetty squeezed her eyes shut tighter. What if she wasn't?
"Honora ran down the hall to find whoever had slashed Rotty's throat . . . She never came back and I couldn't just leave! Rotty was dying! If I didn't bring her here, she'd be gone."
