Chapter 8 - THE ARREST
For three agonizing seconds, time seemed to stand completely still.
Warren Prescott looked down at the syringe in his hand, then up at Teresa’s steady gun barrel, and finally across the room at Charles, who was slowly pushing himself up from the floor, wiping a streak of blood from his lip.
A strange, hollow chuckle escaped Warren’s lips.
"You're too late for the market, Detective," Warren murmured, his fingers loosening slightly.
The metal syringe slipped from his fingers, clattering softly against the linoleum floor.
"Hands behind your back! Interlock your fingers!" Officer Miller shouted, rushing forward and slamming Warren face-first against the hospital wall.
The cold click of steel handcuffs echoed sharply through the room as Warren was subdued without further resistance. As they hauled him toward the doorway, he didn't look back at Lillian, nor did he look at Charles. His face was a mask of cold, indifferent defeat.
Teresa holstered her weapon and walked over to the bed, checking on Lillian before turning to Charles. "Are you alright, Dr. Fletcher?"
"I've been better," Charles panted, gingerly touching his bruised jaw. "Thank God you got here in time."
"It wasn't just me," Teresa said, stepping aside as Dr. Vance—the elderly family physician and medical director—stepped into the room accompanied by hospital security. "The hospital director triggered the campus-wide lockdown the moment we confirmed Warren’s identity on the security cameras."
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Lillian let out a long, shuddering sigh, the tension finally draining from her body as the reality of her survival set in. She looked at Charles, her eyes swimming with tears. "You saved my life, Charles. Again. Just like you've done since we were kids."
"We saved each other, Lil," Charles said softly, walking over to her bedside and taking her hand once more.
