In the end, I took a taxi to Sacred Heart Hospital—not to save him, but to watch him face his penance.When I reached the ER lobby, those familiar glass doors were still there. Only this time, no men were locking it down. Just a group of healthcare workers stood there, their faces pale with terror.I pushed open the operating room door, and the pungent, metallic stench of blood hit me instantly.Brett was tied to the operating table. His torso was bare, marred by a deep, jagged puncture wound across his abdomen, blood constantly gushing out.Several surgeons stood holding hemostats but didn't dare step forward. Because Brett was holding a scalpel, pressing it straight against his own neck.“If anyone comes closer, I'll die right here,” he growled. Drenched in cold sweat, his face was as pale as paper.As I walked in, his unfocused eyes suddenly lit up, only to dim just as quickly.“Erin, you came.”A grim, twisted smile broke across his face. “You're finally willing to come see
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