THE STARVING WARD

I froze in the doorway, staring at the gun leveled at my brother’s temple.

David looked up at me, his face pale and bruised. “Daniel, don’t give it to her. Run.”

“Shut up,” Brenda snapped, pressing the barrel harder against David’s skull. She kept her eyes locked on me. “The ledger, Daniel. Slowly.”

My mind raced. The Gideon Bible tucked into the waistband of my jeans felt entirely too light. If I handed it to her, she would realize the deception instantly, and she would pull the trigger.

“Let him go first,” I said, raising my empty hands. “Let David walk out of this office, and I’ll put the ledger on the desk.”

Brenda laughed—a dry, soulless sound. “You are in no position to negotiate. Give me the book, or I kill him right here, and I tell the police he had a psychotic break and attacked me. It’s his word against the Facility Director’s.”

I took a slow step forward. I reached around to my lower back, gripping the spine of the Bible.

“You won’t get away with this, Brenda,” I said, stalling for every possible second. “Elena knows. The other nurses know.”

“Elena is a minimum-wage employee with a history of substance abuse,” Brenda sneered. “I can discredit her in five minutes. The only thing that matters is that book.”

I pulled the Bible out, keeping the cover facing my body, and tossed it onto the center of the mahogany desk.

It landed with a heavy thud.

Brenda glanced down at it. In that split second of distraction, David lunged forward.

He grabbed Brenda’s wrist with both hands, twisting the gun away from his face. The suppressed weapon fired—a sharp pfft sound—and a bullet shattered the glass of the window behind the desk.

“Go!” David screamed, tackling Brenda to the floor.

I didn't run away. I sprinted around the desk and threw myself into the struggle.

Brenda was terrifyingly strong, fighting with the feral desperation of a cornered animal. She kicked David in the chest, sending him crashing into a filing cabinet. She raised the gun toward me.

I grabbed a heavy brass paperweight from the desk and swung it down onto her forearm.

She screamed, dropping the gun. It skittered across the carpet.

David scrambled forward and kicked the weapon under the heavy leather sofa.

Brenda lay on the floor, clutching her broken arm, her eyes burning with pure hatred. “You’re dead,” she hissed. “Both of you. They’re going to burn this place to the ground with your mother inside.”

“It’s over, Brenda,” David gasped, pulling himself up, clutching his ribs. He looked at me. “Do you have the real ledger?”

“Mom has it,” I said, panting heavily.

David nodded, rushing to the desk. He grabbed the office phone and punched in three numbers. “911. We need police at Oak Haven Assisted Living immediately. We have an armed assailant secured.”

While David was on the phone, I walked over to Brenda’s desk. Her purse was sitting on the chair. I dumped it out onto the floor.

Lipstick, keys, a wallet, and a small velvet pouch spilled out.

I picked up the pouch and opened it. Inside, shimmering under the fluorescent lights, was my mother’s silver locket.

I clenched my fist around it, the cold metal grounding me. I had promised my father I would protect her. Today, I almost failed.

“Daniel,” David said, hanging up the phone. “The police are three minutes away.”

“Good,” I said.

But as I looked down at Brenda, she was smiling. It was a bloody, triumphant smile.

“You think you won?” Brenda wheezed, sitting up against the desk. “I triggered the facility lockdown when you walked in, Daniel. The police can’t get inside without my master code. But the transport van? The one with Arthur? It left ten minutes ago.”

My stomach dropped.

“Pine Ridge,” I whispered.

“Once he’s inside their gates,” Brenda smiled, “he belongs to the state. He’ll be medicated into a vegetative state by midnight. You have the ledger, but without Arthur’s testimony, my lawyers will argue it’s a forgery created by a disgruntled son.”

I looked at David. “We have to stop that van.”

“It’s a secure transport,” David said, panicking. “They have armed guards.”

“I don’t care,” I said. I grabbed the master keycard from Brenda’s desk. “Watch her. When the cops get here, give them the routing numbers from my shoe.”

Before David could argue, I sprinted out of the office.

The facility alarms were blaring now—a deafening, rhythmic siren. Red strobe lights flashed in the hallways. The lockdown had sealed the main doors.