Page 70 of Riot’s Revenge

“It’s Riot,” Reaper said roughly. “He got fucked-up pretty bad.”

Every sound around me seemed to dull instantly. “How bad?”

The pause that followed told me enough before he even answered. “Stabbed, lots of blood. We’re five minutes out.”

The call disconnected before I could ask anything else.

For half a second, I simply stood there staring at the phone in my hand while panic threatened to drag me under before my training took over. I turned immediately toward the nurses’ station. “Jenna, trauma room three. Now.”

Her head snapped up instantly at my tone. “On it.”

I grabbed gloves and pushed through the double doors toward Dr. Harris. “Incoming knife wound. Significant blood loss.”

“How long?”

“Less than five minutes.”

The clinic shifted into motion around me. Machines powered up while supplies got ripped open and fresh linens thrown onto the bed. By the time the front doors burst open, trauma room three was ready.

Shadow and Reaper came through first, half dragging Riot between them while Ghost shoved the doors open hard enough that they slammed against the walls behind them.

My heart nearly stopped.

Blood soaked through Riot’s shirt, down one arm and across both Shadow and Reaper’s hands where they held him upright. His boots dragged heavily against the floor while his head dipped slightly every few steps. He looked gray in the terrifying way that meant his body was struggling to compensate.

“Move,” Shadow barked.

Nobody needed telling twice. We got Riot onto the bed while I grabbed trauma shears and cut through the blood-soaked shirt stretched across his shoulder and upper chest.

The wound sat just beneath his collarbone. It was deep and blood welled heavily between my fingers the second I pressed gauze against it.

Jenna’s eyes widened when she saw the kuttes and the amount of blood covering the room.

“Jesus Christ,” she breathed. “Should I call the police?”

“No.” The word came out so fast and sharp it startled even me.

Everybody looked at me. Shadow’s expression darkened slightly while Ghost froze halfway through pulling his own bloody hoodie over his head.

Jenna blinked. “Maria⁠—”

“Do not call the police.” My pulse hammered wildly while I shoved harder against the wound, trying to slow the bleeding.

Dr. Harris appeared beside me a second later, took one look at the bikers and immediately understood exactly what kind of situation had landed in his clinic.

“Maria,” he warned carefully.

I looked straight at him. “If police walk in here before we stabilize him, they’ll arrest half the waiting room and Riot’ll rip his own stitches out trying to leave.”

Dr. Harris stared at the wound for another few seconds before swearing under his breath and snapping on gloves. “Fine. Let’s move.”

Riot’s eyes cracked open briefly while I pressed fresh gauze against the injury.

His green eyes found mine. “Hey, Nurse,” he muttered weakly.

Something inside me nearly broke apart. I shoved harder against the bleeding and snapped, “Save your strength.”

His mouth twitched faintly before his eyes slid shut again.