Evelyn POV:
I finally drifted into a fitful, painkiller-induced sleep, dreaming of falling from a great height. My only goal was to survive the night and call my lawyer in the morning. Tomorrow, I would start dismantling the life Eugene Blair had built.
A sharp, insistent knocking on my hospital room door jolted me awake. The digital clock on the wall glowed: 3:17 AM.
It was probably a nurse with more medication. I pressed the button to unlock the door.
"Come in," I mumbled, my voice thick with sleep.
The knocking didn't stop. It grew louder, more frantic. It wasn't knocking anymore; it was pounding. A heavy, rhythmic thudding that vibrated through the floor.
A sliver of fear, cold and sharp, pierced the drug-induced haze. This wasn't a nurse.
I squinted at the door. Through the small, reinforced window, I could see a silhouette. Then another. My heart leaped into my throat.
It was them. The men from the warehouse.
The faded tattoo on the leader's neck was unmistakable even in the dim hallway light.
How? Why were they here? Did Eugene send them back to finish the job? The thought was so monstrous, so beyond the pale, that my mind refused to accept it.
Panic, pure and absolute, seized me. My fingers scrabbled for the emergency call button next to my bed. I slammed my palm down on the red plastic disk.
A faint flicker, and then nothing. The system was down.
No blaring alarm. No rush of footsteps in the hall. Only the deafening sound of my own blood roaring in my ears and the relentless pounding on the door.
I hit it again. And again.
With a splintering crack, the door frame gave way. The door flew open, slamming against the interior wall.
The three men filled the doorway, their expressions grim. The leader grinned, a humorless slash in his coarse face.
"Seems there was a system glitch on this floor," he sneered. "Just our luck."
My mind raced. A glitch. Eugene. It had to be. He was tying up loose ends.
"What do you want?" I gasped, trying to shrink back into the mattress, a useless gesture. I was trapped, pinned by the metal cage on my leg.
"The boss wasn't happy," the man said, advancing into the room. "He said you were being unreasonable. Still talking about divorce. Still making threats. He's a man who values a stable home."
The bitter irony was a punch to the gut.
"He sent you," I whispered, the horror of it finally sinking in. "Eugene sent you to... to hurt me again."
"Hurt you? Nah." He chuckled, a low, guttural sound. "This is... a message. The boss wants to ensure you understand the new terms of your life. Unequivocally."
I started to scream, a raw, primal sound of terror, but one of the other men was on me in a flash, his hand clamping over my mouth, the stench of stale cigarettes and sweat filling my nostrils.
He tore the IV from my arm. I struggled, thrashing against him, but it was like fighting a brick wall. My broken body was no match for his brute strength.
"Please," I begged, the word muffled against his palm. "I'll give you money. Anything. Double what he's paying you. Just leave."
The leader paused, a flicker of greed in his eyes. "How much?"
"Ten million," I choked out, the number plucked from thin air. "I can get it. I swear. Just let me go."
He considered it for a moment. Then he laughed. "Nice try. But the boss wants this done tonight. And he already paid a bonus."
He nodded to the other man, a silent, chilling instruction. I saw something glint in his hand-not a weapon, but something cold, clinical. My eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated horror as I finally understood their purpose. This wasn't about pain. It was about erasure.
The last thing I remember was a universe of pain exploding behind my eyes, and a single, chilling thought: he had won.
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