"Thomas Elliot!" Bruce shouted his name. He released Roman, threw him to the floor, and rolled forward at top speed. Before Thomas, who had climbed in through the window, could even land, Bruce punched him in the jaw.
One of Thomas's legs was a newly fitted prosthetic. He had not had enough time to get used to it. The instant his toes touched the ground, his jaw took a heavy blow. Unable to steady his balance, he fell straight backward.
Bruce stepped forward again, grabbed his hair, dragged him into the room, and slammed his head hard against the wall.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
When Bruce let go, he stood still and took a deep breath. Looking at Thomas lying on the floor, his face covered in blood, he murmured, "The textbook said violence can relieve stress... The textbook was right."
He rubbed his nose, turned around, and continued dragging Roman toward the door. But the moment he opened it, he saw Mrs. Miller staring wide-eyed at him.
Bruce hesitated, intending to take some precautions, but Mrs. Miller immediately stepped back and pointed down the hallway. "Go straight, turn right, emergency exit. The key is under the doormat."
"Thank you, ma'am."
As Mrs. Miller watched Bruce drag the man away, she adjusted the position of the teacups on the tray in her hands. Bruce paused and looked up at her.
Mrs. Miller looked down at him and said, "Don't mind it. I've seen too many doctors in my life. Quite a few of them dissect corpses in their offices. Perhaps it's because they don't have to follow operating room rules there."
Bruce pursed his lips, ashamed of the fuss he had just made in his own mind. He dragged Roman into the emergency exit, then returned and dragged the other two