The heart rate monitor let out a piercing, erratic beep, its shrill alarm cutting through the air like a knife.
Gabriela whirled toward Diaz's bed, her dark eyes wide with terror, her fingers clutching the railing so hard her knuckles turned white.
"D-Diaz?!" she cried out, her voice cracking with raw panic.
"D-Doctor—what's happening?!" Her voice cracked with desperation, her body wracked by violent tremors. The bathrobe clung to her sweat-drenched skin, the lingering sensation of my touch still searing between her thighs—unshakable, unbearable.
With a flick of my will, I wove Telepathy into Diaz's mind, twisting his thoughts until his voice failed him. He couldn't speak, couldn't warn her—couldn't do anything but obey.
Diaz's eyelids fluttered open, his glazed, bloodshot eyes locking onto his mother. His lips parted, his face twisting in horror as he tried to scream— "M-MOM—!" —but no sound came out. His voice was gone. Stolen. Silenced by my will.
