“No! Don’t! Please stop!” I fell to my knees in front of Wilbert. “I beg you, don’t hurt him anymore. If you think I did this, then punish me instead. Let me die if you want, but don’t touch my brother. Please… please believe me.”
Wilbert’s face showed no pity, only impatience. He raised his hand again and the headlights flared bright.
I shook my head violently. “No, please, no!”
The car roared and I saw it heading straight for Mark. I didn’t even think. I tore free from the guards holding me and ran forward with everything I had left.
“Anika, no!” Mark screamed, his voice hoarse.
But I was already in front of him, throwing myself over his body to shield him.
I heard Wilbert shout my name in panic, but it was too late.
My world went white the second the car hit me. I felt my waist slam, something inside snap, and then hot blood sprayed into my mouth. I tasted iron and panic and everything went fuzzy.
“Anika!” Wilbert’s voice sounded far away as he grabbed me and pressed his fingers at the corner of my mouth, wiping blood like it would fix what was broken. He kept saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over, like a prayer.
Then the secretary burst in, breathless and puckered, all business and show. “Sir, we found her,” she said, like it was a gift. “She’s out in the suburbs, hurt and scared. No one can get near her, but she called your name.” Wilbert froze, like someone had flipped a switch.
They loaded me and Mark into the ambulance and we screamed to the hospital. Halfway there the doors burst open and chaos exploded at the ER entrance. People shouting. A doctor pulled at a gurney. Every alarm sounded like a countdown.
“Nivianne needs help,” the secretary hissed, eyes all wet and very useful. “She’s screaming, she says her hand’s useless. One of the ER doctors is with Mr. Gu’s son already and the other—” She looked at Wilbert like she was waiting for a crown. “We can send someone, but it’ll be at least thirty minutes.”
I saw it in his face then. That split second where he weighed my soaked, broken body against the idea of his favorite doctor losing her hands. He hesitated. I could see gears turning like he was choosing which piece of meat to save.
My mouth wanted to laugh at how ridiculous it all was. Here I was, bleeding out, and he was thinking about a hand. I tried to force a smile and my lips barely moved. The blood kept coming and I felt myself drifting.