Wrong Choice
1377 Words
MARA-
I should've gone home.
Should've clocked out the second the cops finished their questions and disappeared into the night where I belonged. But my shift wasn't technically over, and County General didn't care if you'd just spent forty minutes keeping a dying man alive in the snow.
So I went back inside.
Changed my scrubs. Scrubbed the blood from under my nails. Tried not to think about ice-blue eyes and the word run whispered like a prayer.
"You okay?" Tessa asked, appearing beside me at the sink.
I nodded. Didn't trust my voice.
Tessa was the kind of nurse who'd seen everything. Twenty years in trauma. Nothing shocked her. But even she looked worried.
"That guy you found," she said carefully. "The one they brought in..."
"What about him?"
"He's in surgery. But Mara..." She lowered her voice. "The cops are saying it was g**g related. Like, Syndicate level."
My hands stilled under the water.
The Syndicate. Everyone in this city knew that name. Whispered it. Feared it. They ran everything. Drugs. Weapons. People. Cross them and you disappeared. Help them and you disappeared. The smart thing was to pretend they didn't exist.
"I didn't know," I said quietly.
"I know. But now you do." Tessa squeezed my shoulder. "So maybe... stay out of it. Okay?"
I nodded again.
But I couldn't stop thinking about him. The way he'd grabbed my wrist. The desperation in his voice. Run. Not for him. For me.
Who was he?
And why did it feel like I'd just stepped into something I'd never be able to step out of?
The rest of the shift blurred. I moved through it on autopilot, checking vitals, changing dressings, dispensing meds. When six AM finally rolled around, I clocked out, grabbed my bag, and headed for the exit.
The parking lot was still dark. Snow had stopped falling but the ground was slick with ice.
I walked fast. Keys already in hand. Eyes scanning.
Everything felt wrong.
The air was too quiet. The shadows too deep. I could feel eyes on me even though I saw no one.
Paranoia, I told myself. You're just spooked.
But nurses had good instincts. And mine were screaming.
I made it to my car. Fumbled with the lock. Yanked the door open.
That's when I saw them.
Two men. Standing beside a black SUV three rows over. They weren't trying to hide. Weren't pretending to be anything other than what they were.
They were watching me.
One of them pulled out a phone. Made a call. His eyes never left mine.
My heart kicked into overdrive.
I slammed into my car, jammed the key in the ignition. The engine turned over. Thank God. I threw it into reverse.
The men didn't move. Just watched.
I peeled out of the parking lot, tires skidding on ice. Didn't slow down until I was six blocks away and my hands had stopped shaking enough to hold the wheel steady.
What the hell was that?
I should've gone straight home. Locked my doors. Called the police.
Instead, I drove in circles for twenty minutes, making sure no one was following me, before finally pulling into my apartment complex.
The building was old. Run-down. But it was mine, and right now, those four walls felt like the only safe place in the world.
I made it inside. Locked the door. Threw the deadbolt. Collapsed against the wood.
Breathe, Mara. Just breathe.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I stared at the screen. Debated ignoring it.
But what if it was the hospital? What if they needed me for something?
I answered.
"Hello?"
Silence.
Then breathing. Slow. Deliberate.
"Hello?" I said again.
"You should've walked away." A man's voice. Unfamiliar. Cold.
My stomach dropped.
"Who is this?"
"It doesn't matter. What matters is you saw something you shouldn't have."
I gripped the phone tighter. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"The man in the snow. You saved him."
"I'm a nurse. It's my job."
"It's your death sentence."
The line went dead.
I stood there, frozen, phone pressed to my ear even though the call had ended.
They knew.
They knew what I'd done. Where I worked. My number.
Oh God. What had I walked into?
I grabbed my laptop. Opened a browser. Searched for news about the shooting.
Nothing yet. Too recent. But there were older articles. Syndicate activity. g**g wars. Bodies turning up in rivers.
I read until my eyes burned.
Then I heard it.
A sound. Outside my door.
Footsteps.
I held my breath.
They stopped right outside.
Silence.
Then a knock. Soft. Polite.
"Mara?" A voice. Male. "Open the door."
I didn't move.
"We know you're in there."
My mind raced. Windows. Could I get out through a window? Second floor. I'd break my legs.
"We're not here to hurt you," the voice continued. "We just want to talk."
Right. Because men who wanted to talk broke into your building and showed up at your door at six in the morning.
I grabbed my phone. Dialed 911.
Before I could hit send, the door shook. Hard.
They were trying to break it down.
I ran. Bedroom. Bathroom. Fire escape. There had to be—
The door splintered.
I spun around.
Two men stepped inside. Not the same ones from the parking lot. These were bigger. Harder. One had a scar running down his jaw. The other looked like he ate people for breakfast.
"Come with us," Scar said. "Make it easy."
"Get out," I said. My voice shook. "I called the cops."
"No, you didn't." He held up my phone. When had he—?
"Please." I hated how small my voice sounded. "I didn't see anything. I don't know anything."
"We know." Breakfast Guy smiled. It wasn't comforting. "That's why you're still alive."
"Then why—"
"Because he wants you."
"Who?"
Neither answered.
Scar moved closer. I backed up. Nowhere to go. My spine hit the wall.
"Don't make this harder than it needs to be," he said.
I opened my mouth to scream.
A hand clamped over it from behind.
I hadn't heard the third man enter. But he was there, solid and immovable, arm wrapping around my waist.
"Don't scream," he whispered in my ear.
His voice was different. Softer. Almost... apologetic?
I thrashed. Tried to bite. Kick. Fight.
It was like fighting a brick wall.
"Shh," he said. "We're not going to hurt you. But you need to come with us. Now."
"Why?" I managed to gasp against his palm.
"Because," he said quietly, "there are people looking for you who will hurt you. And we're the only thing standing between you and them."
"I don't believe you."
"You don't have to."
He pulled me toward the door. I grabbed the frame. He was stronger.
"Please," I whispered.
He hesitated. Just for a second.
Then Scar's phone rang.
He answered. Listened. His face went hard.
"We need to move," he said. "Now. Vincenzo's crew is two minutes out."
The man holding me swore. "Back exit. Go."
They dragged me through my apartment. I fought every step. It didn't matter.
We hit the fire escape. Scar went first. Breakfast Guy behind him. The third man had me in a grip I couldn't break.
"I'm sorry," he said.
Then he pushed me down the stairs.
I stumbled. Caught myself. Looked up.
A black SUV waited at the bottom. Engine running. Tinted windows.
"Get in," the third man said.
"No."
"Get. In."
Gunfire erupted.
I screamed.
The man shoved me into the SUV. Slammed the door. Jumped in after me.
"Drive!" Scar shouted.
The vehicle lurched forward. I was thrown against the seat.
Through the rear window, I saw them. Three men. Armed. Running toward us.
One raised a g*n.
"Get down!" someone yelled.
The back window exploded.
Glass rained down. I covered my head.
The SUV swerved. Accelerated. The hospital disappeared behind us.
I was shaking. Couldn't stop.
The third man—my captor—leaned forward.
"It's okay," he said. "You're safe."
I laughed. It came out broken. "Safe? You kidn*pped me!"
"We saved you."
"From what?"
He met my eyes. Something in his gaze made my breath catch.
"From them," he said. "And from him."
- Writer
