...

Anthony slammed his fist against the steel door, his voice raw. "She's a murderer, and she's got the gall to blackmail the world?"

Robert furrowed his brow. "Can't you kill the stream? If this keeps up, our reputation is done. No one will come to this hospital."

Anthony wanted to deck him. If the hospital hadn't botched Lauren's surgery, none of this would've happened.

The stream was hosted overseas, beyond their reach. The priority was finding the intern and making her talk.

Anthony gritted his teeth. "Dr. Carpenter, we're tracking the intern. She knows something."

"You found her yet?" I asked.

Anthony went quiet, and then his earpiece crackled. "The intern vanished three days ago. We can't find her."

"She is a scapegoat," I scoffed. "What could she know?"

I glanced at the timer. "Ten minutes down the drain. You can't even pull a transplant list? What a joke!"

Anthony's face burned, but he didn't dare to push me.

The hostages, shivering and clinging to each other, stared at me like I was the Grim Reaper.

My patience wearing thin, I clicked my tongue. "Guess three hours are too generous. If that transplant list isn't here in thirty minutes, I will pick off hostages. One body or two makes no difference to me."

I checked my watch. "Thirty-minute countdown starts now. People, do your thing."

Robert sighed outside, his tone dripping with false sincerity. "Dr. Carpenter, you know Lauren's kidneys are gone. You're just forcing us to find a new donor, aren't you? You'll get the death penalty, and your parents will be left caring for her. Can you live with that?"

...

I lowered my gaze, recalling my mom's swollen eyes from crying and my dad's hunched back.

They were small-town farmers who'd poured their lives into raising me and Lauren. We were supposed to repay them and give them a better life.

But the disaster fell on Lauren, my sweet, selfless sister, who had scavenged bottles one summer to buy me a cheap birthday necklace.

Now she was lying in a sterile bed, with tubes snaking from her body.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "You're right, Mr. Sharp."

He exhaled, hopeful. "Let them go. You might get a lighter sentence."

"I can die," I cut in, my tone sharp. "But Lauren must live!"

"What?"

"Actually, it's not just them with HIV. I've scattered blood samples across the city. Only I know where they're hiding. It's two a.m. now and three hours till sunrise. Anyone could catch HIV by dawn."

...

Robert's face twitched. "I didn't peg you for this kind of monster!"

The livestream viewers panicked. They'd been rubbernecking, but now they were in the crossfire.

[Jesus! I've got a shift tomorrow. What are these samples? Am I at risk?]

[Officers, do something! Or I'm leaving this city.]

[The scariest part? You can't tell who is infected. Could be your friends, your family, anyone.]

Anthony barked at the hospital staff, "Just give her the list! She can't do squat with it!"

They hesitated, bound by orders from above.

"Fifteen minutes left." I checked the timer, sauntering toward the hostages. "Or should I start cutting again?"

Just then, an anonymous message popped up.

[I've got the transplant list from the past five days.]

I leaned in. "Who is on it? DM it to me. I won't leak it."

[I'll post it publicly, but you gotta kill someone first.]

My eyes widened. "I'm not your hitman."

[It's someone you know. Head Nurse Linda Roper, right behind you.]

I spun around and found Linda curled in the corner. Gagged, she shook her head like a trapped animal.

I stepped closer, the scalpel raised. "Fine, but how do I know your list is real?"

[I'll send two names first.]

A table hit my inbox. Every entry was detailed and looked legit.

I grabbed Linda by the collar, slammed her to the floor, and pressed the blade to her throat.

Anthony, staring at the screen, nearly had a coronary. "No, don't do this! Even if her kidneys were transplanted, what's your plan? Rip them out? We've got a donor. Surgery can happen now."

I didn't believe his words for a second. "You think I'm gullible? Donors don't just fall from the sky."

"It's true. I'll give her my kidney," he said quickly. "I checked. Our blood types match, and the HLA compatibility is high."

I froze. High HLA compatibility meant low rejection risk. He'd done his research.

"I'll donate," he added, sounding sincere. "I'm a police officer. My word is my bond."

My eyes stung, tears threatening to spill. I glanced at the steel door, wavering.

Then my phone buzzed. I answered the call, and my blood ran cold.