CHAPTER ELEVEN
The next day Chase was actually feeling under the weather. House said it was just a cold, but insisted Chase stay home instead of making everyone else sick.
A few hours later House's office phone rang. He let in ring, being busy with his team on the latest case. After a minute the phone stopped, but then started again. He looked at the screen and sighed loudly.
"God damn it, what is it, Chase?" he snapped into the phone.
"H-House. He's here." Chase was scared, it was obvious.
"What the fuck are you talking about."
"The guy who did this to me! He's trying to knock down the door!"
"Did you call the cops?"
"Y-yes. But I'm afraid they won't make it in time!"
"Calm down." House could hear banging and could swear he heard crying. "There's a gun in my drawer by my bed, go get-" Before he could finish his sentence there was a loud bang of cracking wood then the line went dead.
"Fuck." He hung up the phone and picked it up again. "I need Dr. Wilson. James, we need to get back to the apartment, now. Don't ask questions, just go and meet me by the bike."
"What's going on?" Cameron asked.
"Nothing. You two get back to work," House snipped before limping out of the room as quickly as he could.
