By 2:00 PM, ICU Room 1 had been entirely stripped of its Hollywood-level production value.
Zoe had already left for a meeting with a possible client, leaving Aria fully dressed, packed, and bouncing on her heels with anticipation. She was wearing a pair of comfortable vintage Levi's and an oversized, black Balenciaga hoodie, ready to finally break out of her sterile prison.
The glass doors slid open.
Damien walked in. Behind him marched four massive, heavily armed private military contractors. Between them, they carried a large, rectangular wooden crate.
Aria paused, zipping up her Louis Vuitton weekender bag. She looked at the crate, then up at Damien.
"Um, Damien" Aria said, crossing her arms. "I really don't want to be smuggled out of this hospital in a literal pine box. I have claustrophobia."
"You aren't going in the box," Damien said, gesturing for the men to set the heavy crate down in the center of the room. "The box is staying here."
