Christ, it does something to me watching her work.
Phone in hand to call 911, I see the attacker in the opposite corner of the office, squatting on the floor. He’s barely more than a kid. First year, probably. A bloodied knife dangles from his trembling hand. When his eyes focus, and he sees me, something snaps. He moves to stand, the blade up in attack mode.
“Knife!” I bark and spring toward the kid, putting a wall between him and Alderton, who’s being treated by my wife. “Drop it.”
The kid looks conflicted. “I didn’t mean it. He’s gonna fail me. My father will killme.”
“Cormac!” Scarlett cries. “He’s not breathing. I need help.”
Hearing Scarlett’s voice, the kid freaks out and swings the knife.
I lurch into action, clamping the kid’s wrist, twisting hard until the knife clatters to the ground. I bring my knee up, using it as a weapon to dislocate his shoulder. It won’t kill this kid, but it will incapacitate him.
“Ahh,” he screams, and drops to the floor, cradling his useless limb.
“You’re done,” I tell him quietly with my foot on his neck. “It’s over.”
“Cormac!” Scarlett calls.
I look back, and she’s elbow-deep in blood. My heart punches against my ribs.
“Severe arterial bleed,” she says, sweat dotting her hairline. “He needs transport. Now.”
“What the hell?” Voss says from the doorway. “Campus security emptied out the classroom. Mercer went with them.”
“Find campus EMS!” I snap. “Tell them there was a stabbing, a professor down, level one trauma.”
“Stay with me, professor,” Scarlett whispers. “Stay with me.”
Boots slap and thunder down the hall, someone yelling“Clear”and passing empty offices.
“In here!” I shout.
Campus police rush in first with guns drawn, then EMS barrels in behind them.
I lift my foot off the attacker’s neck as the cops take over and cuff him. “Dislocated left shoulder.”
With him secured, I drop down next to my wife.
A handheld gurney is brought in. But Scarlett doesn’t stop working until EMS physically moves her aside to put Alderton onto the stretcher.
“Stable,” one of the EMS says. “I have a line going. Mercy is standing by. Let’s go.”
And then they’re gone.
Scarlett watches them leave. Her hands are stained red to her elbows. She’s shaking. But she’s steady.
My little warrior. I go to her and want to pull her into me, but I honestly don’t want blood all over me. “Hands up. Let’s get you scrubbed out.”
But when I turn her toward the bathroom, a shadow fills the doorway.
Dean Ford stands there with the face of a man about to lose control. “Scarlett?”
For a split second, she beams with pride. “Dad!”
That’s when Ford’s expression breaks and crushes the moment. “What the hell is going on?” he growls. “What did you think you were doing?”
She flinches. “Saving a man’s life.”