The air in the VIP corridor of Riverbend General Hospital had turned thick and stagnant, vibrating with a tension that felt like a physical weight against the chest. Derek Faulkner took a predatory step forward, his eyes burning with a crimson, incandescent rage that seemed to suck the light out of the hallway.
His hand, calloused from a decade of holding blades in the Deadlands, shot out with the speed of a striking viper. He seized Marcus Hartwell by the lapels of his pristine white lab coat, lifting the hospital director nearly off his feet. The fabric groaned under the strain, mirroring the gasps of the onlookers.
"You shut your mouth!" Derek roared, his voice a low-frequency rumble that rattled the glass of the observation windows. "You are a doctor, Hartwell! You are supposed to be
