Page 70 of Bratva's Mercy
“Someone’s hurt and needs medical attention.”
Damn. That was the one thing I couldn’t ignore as a doctor. For the first time since he woke me up, I took a good look at him and saw the bloodstains on his shirt. How the hell had I missed that?
“Wait, are you hurt?”
He looked down at himself, then back at me, his features softening into a smile. “You’re worried about me?”
I straightened my spine. “I just don’t want you to die here. Anywhere else but here.”
“Ouch, that stings.” The moody look was back on his face, lips pursed and brows etched in a scowl. “Don’t worry, if you wish for it hard enough, unlike tonight, I’m sure one of these assholes will eventually succeed, then I’ll be out of your life forever just like you want.”
My mouth went dry. Someone had tried to kill him tonight? Before I could say anything, he pushed the door open. I hurried after him inside the cold garage, rubbing my arms. He’d managed to wedge his truck next to Brad’s car thanks to me finally dropping off Brad’s things at the charity shop.
“Come here.”
He retracted the tonneau cover from the truck bed and dropped the tailgate. I took a step back, barely containing the scream that bubbled up inside my throat. A man soaked in his own blood was trussed up like a pig at a barbecue. Only years of training kept me from reacting and showing the fear and shock coursing through my veins.
“Is he dead?” I asked.
“Maybe. He was still alive when I threw him in there.”
I winced at how matter-of-fact he sounded but didn’t waste any more time on him. I hopped up into the back of the truck and hurried over to the unconscious man. Up close, the damage was worse. Someone had tried to slash his throat but hadn’t finished the job. Blood soaked through his shirt and pooled beneath him, his skin pale to the point of gray, his chest barely rising.
“Shit…”
I dropped to my knees beside him, leaning in closer and turning my head slightly to feel for breath against my cheek,watching for any movement in his chest. He was breathing too shallowly. I needed to inspect his neck, but there was so much blood.
“Sergei, I need?—”
“Here.”
Surprised, I reached for the box of nitrile surgical gloves Sergei held out to me. Why the hell did he have gloves like these with him? I’d been so focused on the patient that I hadn’t heard him rummaging inside his truck.
“Fresh towels,” I said, snapping on a pair of gloves without looking back at Sergei. “I need to stop the flow of blood.”
I went straight for the unconscious man’s neck, Sergei’s footsteps echoing in the garage. The patient’s pulse was faint and thready. Barely there, but thankfully present. I supported his neck with one hand while applying firm pressure to the wound with the other. Warm blood gushed into my palm, and I clenched my jaw and pressed harder, trying to stem the flow.
Sergei returned quickly, joining me in the bed of the truck and handing me the towels. I folded one and pressed it firmly against the wound, replacing my hand with something that could actually absorb the blood instead of letting it slip uselessly through my fingers. The second towel I wedged beneath his neck to elevate him slightly, careful not to tilt too far. Too much movement and I could make things worse. Not enough, and he’d drown in his own blood.
“Hold on to that,” I said, shifting his hand into place when Sergei hovered too close. For once, he didn’t argue. His fingers tightened over the towel, his grip firm, steady, even as his jaw clenched.
I lifted one eyelid, and then the other, watching the unconscious man’s pupils react under the low light.
Slow.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.
I tore open the front of his shirt, scanning for any additional injuries. He had various scrapes and cuts, ugly bruises forming, but no exit wounds or profusely bleeding sites. It meant everything was concentrated in the neck wound.
And it was bad.
I glanced back at Sergei, my voice sharper now. “He’s lost a dangerous amount of blood. He needs to go to the hospital,” I said, standing up to stare at Sergei.
“If you can’t save him, then leave him to die. Less trouble that way.”
My breath stuttered in my lungs. He was so heartless.
I wasn’t looking at the man who kept my fridge filled with food and checked that I got to work and back home okay. The Sergei crouching next to me was every bit the villain I’d known him to be. The one who had been in hiding all this time so he could manipulate me into thinking he wasn’t so bad.
