The guards froze. I turned, slowly and terrified, and stared at the doctor and Patrick. Everyone's eyes were fixed on the metal door leading to the Triangle wing—the place where Ashur was caged.
Silence. All eyes on the door.
Color drained from the doctor's and Patrick's faces; both stared hard, unblinking. Another scream. Then a savage clatter—things breaking, shattering.
My heart stopped. Bodies went rigid. Fear stamped every face.
Patrick snarled, voice barely steady, "Go see what's happening."
A guard nodded, eased the door open with his baton raised, and slipped into the Triangle Room.
No one breathed.
I stood there, weak and hurting, the guards' hands still locked on my arms. The silence stretched—then a sudden, hideous scream. My heart pounded in my throat. Every drop of blood running down my leg felt like it carried a piece of me with it.
I stared at the door, dizzy. Had Ashur gotten out? Was he fighting them—alone? How?
The doctor, pale as paper, rushed to the console to check the cameras—in jerky, frantic motions. His lips had gone blue; his eyes were wide with fear. I glanced at the corner monitors: nothing. Black screens.
He slammed his hands on the keyboard and shouted, face flushing, "Seal the doors—call in the units!"
His ragged breathing shredded the heavy quiet. The room smelled like fear. Guards traded quick, panicked looks, torn between standing their ground and bolting. In me, terror began to thin into something cooler, stranger—hope.
One guard sprinted out to relay the order. Patrick said to the doctor, tight-voiced, "You should head to the secure wing. It's not safe here."
The doctor shoved him aside, grabbed another guard by the arm, and hurled him toward the door. "Go see what's going on." He jerked his chin at the one aiming a gun at me. "You too. Move."
Both men hesitated, then edged toward the door with pale, frightened faces. After they slipped out, we all kept staring at the steel door.
My vision kept blurring. My arms were still trapped in two iron grips, and all I wanted was a chair and one minute off my ruined leg.
Something crashed. Then screams—raw, breaking with pain.
The doctor and Patrick traded a stunned look, and I knew I'd been right.
Ashur was out.
The viper was awake—sharper than ever, deadlier, more venom in every breath.