"Central City Hospital," I gasped at the driver. "Please—hurry."
I glanced back. Denys was already closing the distance, his long strides eating up the ground between us. Before the car could pull away, his hand shot out and grabbed the door handle.
I'd locked it from the inside. He yanked hard. It didn't give.
His face darkened to something murderous. His palm slammed against the window, and his voice tore through the glass like a blade.
"Alberta. If you leave, I'll have the hospital cut off your daughter's medication."
The threat landed exactly where he'd aimed it—right in the center of my chest.
But I held his gaze and didn't flinch.
Denys Simmons was cruel. But I refused to believe he was that cruel.
"Drive," I told the cabbie, my eyes still locked on Denys's rage-contorted face. "Please. This man is a monster."
The driver finally listened to me this time. The instant he floored the gas and the car shot forward, I caught a glimpse of Denys nearly getting clipped by the vehicle.
He chased after us for a few furious steps before stopping at the curb, yanking out his phone in frustration.