Betrayal: Book 3 of the Guardians Saga

Ch. 10.1 To Be or Not To Be

It was the three evenings later when Brockner flipped open his CIA billet and waltzed past the suspicious ICU nurses. He entered Alex's room, unruffled by the sight before him.

Alex lay on her side facing the nurses' station, an expanse of bloody gauze taped to the terrible burn on her back. More bandages littered her arms, covering various wounds. An ECG monitor beeped rhythmically, its green line flashing its repeating pattern.

"Hello, dear." Brockner leaned carelessly on the bedrail, undisturbed by the fact that Alex was staring into space, ignoring him. "Morgan might have disabled your tracking device, but he didn't know I had hidden one on the slipstream generator since it only activates when touched or scanned, and then shuts off. The staff here must have x-rayed it. I wish I could have seen the looks of confusion on their faces."

He chuckled nastily before returning his attention to her. He tsk'd as he fingered some of the larger bandages. "That Morgan never could control his temper, even to make a profit."

Brockner fingered one of the many IV tubes hanging over the bed before flicking it away. "You're certainly not worth much like this. Of course, he couldn't kill you, so the dirty work falls to me."

He deftly caught the swinging IV tube. With his other hand he pulled out two syringes.

At last, Alex looked at him, only her gaze moving upward.

"Now I have your attention," Brockner said, smug smile spreading on his face.

He certainly had Gabe's, who was looking in the window from the outside, claws dug into the concrete wall.

"These are propofol and succinylcholine to grant you a painless death, unlike Morgan," he continued. "Grange, myself, and your three allies are unable to stop him. I really am your best friend. The higher-ups want you dead and gone, so I have no worries of prosecution for murder. James Bond wishes he were me."

Alex glanced down at her hand.

"Yes, you have the call box in your hand. All you have to do is push the button and the nurse will come running."

"Push it," Gabe whispered.

"Push the button and you can go on living, if that's what you call this." Brockner looked around the room. "I'm sure you'll be transferred to the regular hospital floor in a week or so."

"Push it," Gabe pleaded. "Just push it."

"After a month on the rehab unit, you could even go home. A little carriage house apartment, isn't it? If it isn't already rented out, you understand. Of course, it might be a little lonely. I doubt if your friends will be visiting much after what I told them about your powers. They know you manipulated them, twisted them to love you. Oh, I almost forgot, you'll have at least one visitor. Morgan can't resist seeing you, like a moth to the flame, or in your case, the flame to the moth. So go ahead and push—"

He stopped when he saw her release the call box and it swung on the end of its cord, reminiscent of the gallows.

"Good girl. At least this will be painless." Brockner selected an IV.

Gabe drew his sword and smashed through the window. Brockner ducked the flying glass and scrambled to the doorway.

With a wide sweep of his blade, Gabe cut all the tubes and wires that bound Alex to the bed and bent to lift her up.

"Gabe?" she asked hesitantly, not moving to help him.

"Put your arms around my neck. We're leaving."

A gunshot interrupted him. Gabe sent one of the monitors flying at Brockner, then scooped up Alex and was out the window.

"Hold tight," Gabe ordered as dug his claws into the concrete and began to climb down.