Before I could even react, he was already tearing past me. I looked up and caught a flash of his dark eyes, wild with panic.
But his gaze barely grazed me before he bolted past, heading for the stairwell behind me.
In that split second as our paths crossed, his shoulder slammed into me and sent me crashing to the floor.
The bodyguard trailing him stepped on the back of my hand without breaking stride.
I winced against the sharp bite of pain and watched Bertram's retreating figure, stumbling in his desperation, growing smaller down the hallway. Something inside my chest seized and went still.
I'd already heard the panic in his voice over the phone. I'd known. But seeing it with my own eyes still sent a blade twisting through my heart.
After a moment, I tugged weakly at the corners of my mouth.
Of course. Bertram had always been this way.
The second anything involved Alexis, nothing else in the world existed for him.
On the hospital rooftop, a man with a savage, contorted face held Alexis hostage. A knife gleamed at her throat, the blade pressed flat against her skin.
Alexis was sobbing uncontrollably, tears streaming down her face.
As more people crowded onto the rooftop, the man retreated toward the edge, his agitation spiraling into something feral and unhinged.
His bloodshot eyes locked onto Bertram.
"Bertram Delgado! All I wanted was one heart to keep me alive. But you'd rather give this bitch heart after heart after heart than spare me a single one. Fine. Then don't blame me for taking it with my own hands!"
Bertram's burning gaze fixed on the thin line of blood trickling down Alexis's neck. His face was a mask of composure, but his hands trembled at his sides.
He drew a slow breath. "A heart from someone with cardiac disease. How long do you think that would keep you alive?"
I stood in the corner of the crowd, watching the scene unfold.
Then, in the next instant, a pair of familiar eyes found mine through the press of bodies.
Before I could process what was happening, Bertram had pulled me into his arms.
"Only a heart from someone healthy would be worth anything to you."
His voice rang out, clear and deliberate, right beside my ear. My body went rigid. I lifted my gaze to his cold, hard face, and every drop of blood in my veins turned to ice.
He knew. He knew the kidnapper wanted a heart to save his own life, and he'd shoved me forward anyway, painting a target on my back.