ELLA

The doors to the operating room swing shut behind Harris and the sound echoes down the hallway, ending its reign of terror right in my chest.

Like a complete fool, I remain standing there for a long moment, staring at the blank metal surface as if it might open again and undo everything I just heard.

Run.

Run from Marshall.

Marshall had him.

I should call the cops. Tell them something.

But I can’t. Because Marshall—that fucking son of a bitch—is going to ruin the man that I ...