I subtly followed his gaze and realized with a jolt that two plainclothes security guards had quietly slipped into the crowd, standing just over my left shoulder.
Because they had been stationed outside my house days prior, I barely recognized their faces.
If my instincts were right, Ferris's horrifying provocation was entirely calculated.
He was using extreme psychological warfare to draw Terrence's absolute focus onto himself.
With a lit lighter shaking violently in Terrence's hand, the slightest flinch would ignite the massive puddle of gasoline, obliterating this wing of Capital General and causing catastrophic casualties.
Terrence took the bait hook, line, and sinker. His grief morphed into blind, blinding rage. "What the hell do you know?! What do you know about love?! You're a cold-blooded monster! You have no right to judge us! I would gladly give my life for her, but before I do, I'm making sure you pay for what you did!"
With a guttural roar, Terrence lunged directly at Ferris. The security guards instantly broke cover and sprinted forward, but Terrence was clearly trained. With terrifying agility, he sidestepped the guards' tackle and threw a wild, devastating punch straight at Ferris's head.
He moved with the terrifying speed of a man with nothing to lose. The crowd gasped in horror, my own heart leaping into my throat. But Ferris was exceptionally fast. He pivoted sharply, smoothly dodging the haymaker.
Missing his target only drove Terrence further into madness. His eyes practically glowing red, he completely abandoned all logic, spinning around and lunging again, his hands clamping down viciously on Ferris's left shoulder.
A sharp grunt of pain ripped from Ferris's throat. Huge beads of sweat instantly broke out across his forehead. The poised, untouchable surgeon was suddenly paralyzed, dragged violently toward the OR doors without an ounce of resistance.
A collective gasp of sheer terror echoed through the hall.
Staring at the exact spot where Terrence's fingers were dug into Ferris's shoulder, the pieces clicked into place.
Terrence had violently grabbed the exact spot where the wine bottle had shattered.
Seeing the flame of the lighter inching closer to the gasoline, adrenaline completely overrode my common sense. I sprinted out of the crowd and screamed at the top of my lungs, "Terrence, stop! I have a note Beatrice left behind! Don't you want to see it?"
Terrence froze violently. The murderous rage on his face faltered, replaced by frantic suspicion. He glared at me, panting heavily. "Impossible! If Bea left a note, she would have given it to me!"
"I have no reason to lie to you," I forced my voice to remain steady as I slowly reached into my pocket and pulled out a crumpled, discarded medical form. "It's right here."

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