Bloodshed (Order of the Unseen, #1)(58)

Sensing Micah’s gaze on the back of my head, I shake no.

Not yet.

Once the door shuts behind the man with a soft thud, our eyes lock in a concentrated stare.

“The next two,” I instruct, striding across the room, and opening the door to a good size, cluttered closet. “Getting off their shift.”

He nods, eying the closet as I shut the door. “Got it.”

“Guard the door,” I tell him, mere seconds before someone else strides in. When the man begins to look my way, I subtly turn my head. He hums a song to himself as he walks past me, heading for his locker.

Waiting for the right moment, I act busy, my fingers fumbling with the lock in front of me. It’s evident that the man is gathering his belongings and getting ready to go home. Looking at Micah from the corner of my eye, I nod.

He leans his back against the door, blocking anyone from entering.

And I creep toward the entirely oblivious guy changing in the corner of the locker room. He looks my size, about the same height, at least. I easily have a couple pounds on him, and to my advantage, most of it is pure muscle. I sneak up on him fast, giving him no time to react, which provides me the upper hand.

He doesn’t even see it coming as I wrap my elbow and the bend of my arm around the front of his neck, clutching his throat tight. The tune he was humming has now turned into low, desperate gurgles of confusion. Then, terror.

He tries hard to fight me off, reaching behind the back of his head to claw at my face. Except, I’ve caught him so off guard he doesn’t know what else to do. I quickly turn my head, trying to move out of reach as best as I can as I tighten my hold on his throat. He grips my forearm, tapping out quicker than I had anticipated, as the struggle in him significantly weakens.

Finally, his body goes limp.

I drag him across the scuffed tile floor while Micah continues to stand on guard.

“So, what’s going on with you and Jensen?” I pry.

“Nothing,” he dismissively replies. “Jesus Christ, man. Now is not the time.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for starters, you’re dragging some guy you just choked out across the goddamn floor,” he smugly shoots back.

Once I lay the guy flat on his back in the closet, I look up at Micah with a smile. “Just trying to help.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he snarls. “Not now, Damien.”

I shut the closet door behind me as my body rages with a high like no other. As soon as I step back in front of the lockers, the door of the locker room opens once more, and in walks our second victim.

Only this time, when he’s least expecting it, I hit this guy over the head.

The blood pumps like nitrous through our veins as we drag him into the closet. We race to strip them, and as soon as we’re changed into their attire, navy-blue scrubs, we zip tie their hands behind their back and stuff our shirts into their mouths to muffle any sounds.

They’re knocked out cold for the time being, but not knowing how long we have until they come back to, we decide to cover them with sheets in the far back of the closet.

This will do.

For now.

Nobody will even know they’re missing since it’s prime time for shift change.

We use their CNA badges to gain access to the floor. The burn unit is eerily quiet, most likely given the time of night. We make our way down the hallway of level one, hearing faint sounds coming from the nurses’ station as we turn the corner.

I gesture toward the desk with a subtle nod. “Give me one minute,” I tell him.

He nods, before disappearing into a dark room.

I casually make my way behind the nurses’ station. Everyone seems to be busy, focused on their work as I shuffle through the paper charts on the desk. Even though most of the charting is done on a computer, fortunately for me, this hospital also keeps backup charts.

In case of an emergency?

For transport?

Who knows…

This information is clearly only accessible to staff. No one here would question a CNA looking through files and minding their own business.

Even though I’m visible on camera, I keep my head down, thankful for the medical mask hiding most of my identity.

Beneath it, I smirk to myself, skimming over the details.

I found you, you bastard.

Timothy Schnyder.

One nurse to one patient.

Bella Rivers, RN.

Ignoring the quiet chatter from the staff behind me, I continue to read on.

Room number 66.

Vented and sedated.

Central line.

Absolutely flawless. I sadistically smile to myself, cursing my dick as it begins to swell with the urge to kill.

An older-looking woman to the left of me sighs with exhaustion.

“Long day?” I coolly ask, keeping my gaze glued to the paper.

“Very,” she replies with a dry chuckle. “Always picking up that extra shift.”

“Mmm.” With a slight turn of my head, my eyes lock on her badge. Well, well, well. Hello there, Bella Rivers. “I know that feeling all too well.”

Right on cue, Micah steps back into the hall, making his presence known as he quickly strides toward us. I glance at Rivers from the corner of my eye, silently gesturing to her before locking my eyes with his.

He gets the hint, nodding once.

“Excuse me,” Micah says, adjusting his surgical mask higher on the bridge of his nose. He rests his arm on the counter of the nurses’ station and lowers his gaze to her badge. “Bella?”