Crowed (Team Zero #2) - Rina Kent Page 0,6

finish the job the traitor couldn’t?

I scan her tiny frame for any bulge of a weapon in her uniform or any movements.

Negative.

If she were an assassin, she wouldn’t have let me surprise her that way. Still, if she isn’t, then she would’ve either fought or tried to run away by now. Fight or flight. That’s human instinct. She didn’t even scream for help.

All she does is stare at me with expectation as if asking me to do something. Whatever the fuck that is.

“Do you understand English?” I waggle the scalpel in her face. “I said morphine.”

“Your temperature is relatively high which means you’re suffering from an infection.” Her feathery, low voice drifts in perfect English, the French accent is hardly noticeable. “You need antibiotics before morphine.”

Another pulse of pain causes me stagger. “Then give me those and give me the bloody morphine.”

She makes no attempt to move. Instead, she continues staring at me, as if I’m not pointing a blade at her.

“Do what you’re told and I’ll leave you in peace,” I hiss. “Or would you rather die?”

Her previously apathetic eyes sparkle with something similar to anticipation, but not quite. Excitement? Thrill?

Fuck me.

Even the craziest killers I had the pleasure to end clung to life when a gun was placed to their heads. Even if they try to hide it, survival instinct always kicked in.

Not Nurse Betty here. She’s completely unfazed by the possibility of death.

What the hell is wrong with this woman’s head?

And why the fuck does the surge of life in those previously-dull eyes transfix me?

She never averts her attention from me. When she does, it’s only to concentrate on the scalpel’s edge. Like maybe if she stares at me hard enough, I’ll fulfil her wish.

I have no time to fulfil anyone’s wish. With the pain shredding my shoulder, I have to make an effort to even breathe. My entire body is drenched in excruciating heat and the taste of nausea is acid to my throat.

Fuck this.

I pull her by the arm until my face is inches away from hers.

She gasps, bright eyes widening, and a slight tremor registers under my stiff, sweaty fingers.

“Give me the fucking meds,” I rasp in my harshest tone, fingers digging into her arm. Nurse Betty here needs to know who she’s dealing with. I hate to threaten innocent people, but this is an emergency and I need to get the fuck out of here.

Something shifts in her expression. Instead of the familiar fear I expected, those eyes fill with pure disappointment. They used to be bright green but turned into the dullest, mossy colour like the colour of a forest after a storm. As if she put all her hopes in me and I let her down.

She points at her cart. “It’s in there.”

“Fetch them.” I release her and narrow my eyes on the outline of her tiny back. Nurse Betty’s movements are automatic. She doesn’t even try to hide her bored expression.

A commotion outside rips my gaze from her. I catch muffled words about why the nurse is late and if they should check. Police. Just what I bloody needed.

I snatch the bag of meds from her hands.

“You have to eat first.” Nurse Betty doesn’t pay attention to the conversation filtering through the door. Either she doesn’t hear them or she doesn’t care.

Considering how fucking weird she is, my bet is on the second.

I half jog to the window and look at the ground below. I can jump to the next floor and climb down from there.

Nurse Betty’s voice filters from behind me. “It’s the third storey.”

Didn’t stop me before. At least this time, it’s a bad shoulder, not an injured leg.

The commotion gets near. Dizziness threatens me again. I shake my head and yank the hospital sheet then use it to strap the meds to my middle. I swing my leg over the edge and hold onto the window’s frame with my hands. I grit my teeth when my entire weight is pulled by my arms. Pain rips through my hurt side and the bandages soak in red. A rush of blood to my head almost blacks me out.

A bitch. Gunshots are always a bitch.

Nurse Betty’s tiny face peeks from the window. A slight spookiness mars what used to be impassive features. Her rosy lips part in a perfect O. She’s so fucking beautiful – which is a weird thought to have while clinging on the edge of death.

But I live for weird.

“You’ll fall,” she whispers as if a louder