Page 72 of Bratva's Mercy
Monitors were already powered on, the screens glowing. An anesthesia machine stood ready at the head of the bed. There were IV poles, suction units, a fully stocked crash cart, and even a portable imaging unit tucked to the side. Everything was state of the art.
I couldn’t help but wonder what tragedy they’d experienced that taught them to be this deliberate in their readiness to handle a medical emergency. Wren being poisoned?
I didn’t allow myself more than a few seconds to process it all before instinct took over.
“Get him on the table,” I ordered, already moving to the sink. I scrubbed in quickly, the familiar rhythm settling my nerves, grounding me in something I understood. By the time I turned, they had him stretched out, still bound, still bleeding.
“Cut those,” I snapped, gesturing to the restraints. “For God’s sake, he’s unconscious, and with the two of you here, what can he do even if he wakes up?”
There was a brief hesitation where the other man looked to Sergei for guidance. It made me grit my teeth. I wasn’t used to others ignoring my directives when doing my work.
Sergei nodded. “Dezi, remove them.”
Dezi cut the ropes off the man while I started working.
“Vitals,” I said out of habit, but no one answered.
With a sigh, I reached for the monitor myself, attachingleads to his chest, securing the blood pressure monitor and slipping the pulse oximeter onto his finger. The machine beeped to life, erratic at first before settling into a weak, uneven rhythm. He was still too unstable.
I grabbed an IV catheter, relieved to find a vein on the first try despite the blood loss, and secured the line before hanging fluids. My eyes flicked to the storage unit of blood.
“Do you have O negative?” I asked.
“Yes,” Sergei said. “We prioritize sourcing it.”
Of course they did.
The storage unit was neatly labeled, the bags reflecting more O-negative blood than anything else.
“How did you come by so much?” I asked as I spiked the bag and started the transfusion, watching the slow, steady flow as it fed back into him.
“We pay good money for people to donate. We keep some on hand in case any of us need blood.”
“Hmm.”
In their field, that probably happened a lot.
The room went quiet behind me as I worked. I could feel their eyes on me, but although I was nervous, I didn’t acknowledge any of it. I focused on the wound instead, which was deep but uneven—the only reason he was still alive.
Had Sergei done this? He didn’t seem to empathize with the patient at all. Although he was likely the culprit, I didn’t believe the damage was caused by him. Not because he lacked the grit to carry it out. Somehow, I just knew that if the aggressor had been Sergei, the man I was fighting to keep alive would have long been dead. Sergei didn’t look like a man who didn’t finish a job once he committed to it.
I cleaned the area quickly, assessing the damage and controlling the bleeding where I could before reaching for sutures. My hands moved on instinct, steady despite my mind running wild about this organization I’d decided to go upagainst. They were so powerful. Not only did they have all the manpower I didn’t, but they had the money to get things done and to buy the law on their side. For that reason, I had to go all the way to ensure whatever I learned about Morozov couldn’t be explained away.
I had only one chance, and I had to make it count.
When I finally finished, I stepped back slowly, stripping off my gloves and dropping them into the bin. My back ached, and a yawn reminded me that I’d slept fitfully while waiting for Sergei to join me in bed. Thankfully, my schedule had changed, and I had a graveyard shift.
The man lay still on the table, chest rising shallowly, the monitor showing a steadier reading than before. The transfusion was still running through the IV line.
“Leo.”
“Hmm?”
I turned to find Sergei closer than I’d expected. I’d been so intent on saving the patient, I hadn’t looked at him once during the procedure. His arms came around me, and he pressed his palm to my lower back. A low moan rumbled up from my chest before I could stop it, and my head snapped up to search Sergei’s face to see whether he would mock me for my reaction.
Instead, I found him watching me intently, a look of… Was that admiration on his face?
“Do you know how hot you are when you’re working?”
