Semua Bab Patient 42: Bab 1 - Bab 10

“Dispatch, this is Sergeant Malone. I’m at the location. Riverside warehouse, east wing. No movement topside.”*Static.*Jack clicked off the radio. “Figures.”The elevator moaned as it descended—rust grinding against rust. The shaft reeked of bleach, metal, and something worse.He adjusted the grip on his sidearm. “Better be rats.”The door opened with a reluctant hiss. Fluorescent lights flickered like failing memories. The basement was cold, white, surgical. Steel tables lined with syringes and blood‑stained gauze. A kennel, bolted to the floor.Inside, a woman. Barefoot. Skin smudged. Eyes silver.Jack leveled his gun. “Police. Don’t move.”She didn’t flinch. “You’re late.”His finger twitched. “Hands where I can see them.”“Shackled,” she said calmly, raising raw wrists. “Try again.”He stepped closer. “What’s your name?”She tilted her head. “Do you need it to do your job?”“Lady, I just pulled you out of a goddamn horror movie. Humor me.”

*BOOM.*The shelter shook. Dust rained from the ceiling. Vesper gasped, curling tighter in Jack’s arms.He adjusted her position. “You’re overheating. I need to lower your temp.”“Too late,” she rasped. “It’s not about temperature anymore.”Jack stood, tearing open the ancient emergency box. “Ice packs, saline, anything—come on—”“No ice,” she murmured. “Only you.”He froze. “Vesper, listen to me. This isn’t real. It’s chemical. I won’t touch you like that.”Her eyes snapped open. “I’m not asking for sex.”Jack blinked.“I’m asking for contact,” she said, voice shaking. “I need grounding. Skin. Pressure. Not pleasure.”“…You’re sure?”She nodded, sweat dripping from her jaw. “Please, Jack. Just… hold me down.”He hesitated. Then slowly knelt, wrapping his arms around her from behind. Her back arched against his chest, muscles twitching.She flinched as thunder cracked overhead. “Noise hurts. Light hurts. Everything hurts.”“I’ve got you.”He

Sunlight crept through the vents, slicing the darkness with pale gold. Jack blinked awake, instantly aware of the weight on his chest.Vesper stirred. Her voice was rough. “Still alive?”He cleared his throat. “Unfortunately.”“Regret kicking in?”“Like a freight train.”She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. “You can pretend it didn’t happen.”“I don’t pretend.”A long pause.She sat up slowly, muscles stiff. “Then let’s agree not to discuss it. It was a medical necessity.”He gave a bitter laugh. “That’s one way to phrase it.”She reached for her ID band, fingers hesitating. “They’ll trace us soon.”“I already called someone,” Jack said, pulling on his torn uniform shirt.Her eyes narrowed. “Who?”“Dr. Felicia Chen. Biotech unit at the state university. She owes me.”“You’re delivering me back?”“I framed it as a rescue. Said you were trafficked, dosed with synthetic hormones, unstable but human.”“Nice touch.”He looked a

“Badge number?”“Malone. Sergeant Jack. I’m not here for a tour.”The university security guard raised an eyebrow. “You were suspended this morning, Detective.”Jack held up the pink slip. “Haven’t read it yet. Let me through.”“You’re not authorized—”“I’m not asking permission.”The guard stepped forward. “This is a Level-Four Bio-Containment facility.”“Then you’d better contain me.”Jack pushed past, leaving the stunned guard fumbling for his radio.He marched through the clinical halls, past rows of frosted glass and biometric scanners. The walls smelled like antiseptic and secrets.He clutched a box of apology donuts in one hand. Ridiculous, but it was a cover. Something to distract. Something to throw.“Sir, you need clearance—”Jack flashed his badge. “Expired, not dead. Where’s the viewing gallery?”The intern hesitated. “Second floor, west wing. But you really shouldn’t—”Jack was already moving.He reached the gallery. Frosted gla

“You stole an RV,” Vesper said flatly.Jack poured gas station coffee into a chipped mug. “Bought it. Barely. Used my severance check.”“Which you got for breaking into a federal lab.”“Details.”She glanced around the cramped interior. Rusted sink. Busted fan. A dreamcatcher hanging from a plastic hook.“And the disguise?”He handed her a denim cap. “Congratulations, you’re now Mrs. Sally Thompson. We’re newlyweds on a sad road trip.”She arched a brow. “You’re disturbingly good at this.”“I was raised by criminals,” Jack said, sipping his coffee. “Then I joined the force. Full circle.”She sat at the fold-out table, examining a map. “We head south. Avoid major cities. No digital trail.”He pointed to a hand-drawn line. “Kansas, Arkansas, then Texas. I hear Patagonia has good hiding spots.”She smirked. “You planning a vacation during a manhunt?”He shrugged. “Might be nice to disappear somewhere with cliffs and no extradition.”She studied him f