It was supposed to be a quiet night.
I finally peeled off my scrubs and said goodbye to Nia at the nurse's station, both of us too tired to even make the usual sarcastic jokes. The hospital parking lot was already empty, lit in that strange yellow-orange glow that made everything look a little haunted.
I lifted my wrist, staring at my watch with half-lidded eyes. 3am. My night shift had ended early this time, but spending eight hours in the maternity room was no different from twelve hours in the ICU ward.
My car was a few yards away, and I was already thinking about sleep. Sweet, glorious sleep. Maybe finish the leftover lasagna I had made last night. Definitely not talk to anyone.
I reached into my pocket for my keys, sighing in relief...
... when the screech cut through the silence of the night.
Tires. Fast.
I looked up as a black van barreled around the corner and slid into the parking lot. My grip on my keys tightened as I hurriedly unlocked the car door.
"What the hell is—"
The side doors flew open, and two men in black jumped out before I could quickly get into the car. One of them grabbed my arm; the other shoved something cold and metallic onto the back of my head. I froze, my heart hammering in my chest. It didn't take much for me to realize what was happening.
"I'll give you whatever you want. You can even have the car." I quickly said, keeping my eyes forward.
"Shut up. You're coming with us."
"What!? No—"
They didn't allow me to speak.
The rest happened in flashes: my bag hit the ground, and I kicked, elbowed one in the ribs, and bit someone's hand. It didn't matter. I was outnumbered, outmuscled, and running on low energy from the long day I've had.
They shoved me into the back of the van, roughly, and I sprawled onto the cold metal flooring. Darkness swallowed me, and the world spun out from under me.
The van skidded forward, forcing my body to roll backward. I groaned as I collided with the back doors of the van, my head spinning painfully. I closed my eyes, realizing the seriousness of the situation. I had just gotten kidnapped.
As soon as the thought sunk in, the van skidded to a stop. I gasped as I lurched forward, catching myself before I could hit the floor again. I looked towards the doors as they were unlocked, and strong hands grabbed my arms, dragging me out of the vehicle.
I blinked rapidly as a wave of bright, white lights hit my face, and I found myself staring at the huge walls of a warehouse. The air was filled with the smell of motor oil and rust. My feet and the hurried steps of the men dragging me echoed uncomfortably.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked, trying to free myself from their tight grips. "I didn't do anything!"
"Over here," a voice snapped ahead of us, and the men led me towards it.
They turned a corner, dragging me towards a table. My eyebrows furrowed as I was shoved closer. It wasn't a real operating table. Only metal, covered in a black tarp and soaked in blood.
Someone was already lying on it.
Shot. Early twenties. Bullet wound in the lower abdomen. Bleeding fast.
My stomach dropped. So that's what this was.
A man, the only other one in the room, turned to look at me, his pale blonde curls stained with red streaks of blood... probably from touching his shot friend and then running his hands through his hair. His green eyes narrowed at me, and he pointed at his groaning friend on the table.
"Fix him," he demanded rather rudely. "You're a doctor, right? Fix him now."
I looked at him in disbelief. He was tall, built like a wall, and dead serious.
My eyes shifted back to the dying man on the table. Much younger than the rest of these men. "He needs a hospital. A sterile environment with medical tools. I can't just—"
"No hospitals. Do what you can. Or he dies. Then you die with him."
He turned and shoved a beat-up medical bag at me. I dug through it, finding mostly junk. A few useful things. Scissors. Clamps. A tourniquet. Maybe enough to buy him time.
"You need to let me go as soon as I'm done." I stated.
"You're in no position to make demands. Fix him, or die."
I clenched my jaw, biting my words back. He was right. I had no idea what was happening or who I was dealing with. The last thing I could do was challenge them. I was outnumbered, and I didn't know where I was, even though it didn't seem far from the hospital. I didn't have time to think of anything else. I had to help whoever was lying on the bed.
I nodded once to myself and just moved. Gloves. Tourniquet. Cut through the fabric. Find the source. Blood was pouring out like his body was trying to let go all at once.
The blonde man watched me carefully, and when he had the slightest faith in me, he managed to look away. "What's the status with the Mason Gang?"
"They've retreated and left the area. We managed to capture one of them. He should be at the warehouse down south."
My jaw clenched as I listened. That explained the gunshot wound. This was a gang attack. I had heard about them frequently for the past couple of weeks. Something about them fighting for territory.
Was I saving a gang member? A criminal?
I barked an order without thinking. "I need someone to hold a flashlight over him. I'm working in the dark here!"
The blonde man turned to me, and he nodded to one of his friends. "You heard the doctor. She can't see."
The man did as instructed, holding his flashlight over my head. The one that had pointed at me with a gun. I clenched my jaw at the thought.
"I swear, if you breathe on anything I'm touching and contaminate it further, I'll walk out and you can try your luck with YouTube tutorials."
Annoyed, the man looked away from me, and I received chuckles in the background.
I worked in a haze. Every second counted. My heart was racing, my hands steady out of sheer habit.
Then the door slammed open.
Boots. Fast steps. A new energy sliced through the already cold air.
"What the fuck happened?"
That voice. Calm, but dangerous. I kept my eyes on the task in front of me, afraid that I would get distracted if I looked at whoever just walked in.
"Mason Gang. They got Florian." The blonde man explained calmly. I looked at my patient. Black hair and half-asleep brown eyes. Florian. He was really out of it. It was amazing how he was almost asleep while I was stitching him without anesthesia.
Almost as if he were used to this.
"What the fuck was he doing out?" The deep voice boomed behind me, nearly making my hands tremble.
"You know he wants to be a part of the jobs we do. I can't stop him from coming. Anyways, it's fine. The doctor is fixing him right up, and he'll be good."
"The what?"
Silence.
Blondie cleared his throat, looking away awkwardly. "Doctor."
"She's a doctor," the guard holding the flashlight muttered.
"She looks like a damn intern."
"She's the only one who didn't piss herself when we grabbed her."
Silence again. Then heavy steps. I felt him come closer. His presence was immediate, like gravity.
Finally, I looked up.
Hazel brown eyes, sharp enough to cut glass. Messy, black hair. Tall. Dark suit, no tie. Blood on his white shirt, clearly not his own.
He looked like the older version of the man lying on the table, so I could only assume that they were brothers.
He stared at me. More like glared. Then at the man on the table.
His face softened.
"Florian?"
His voice cracked on the name. Just slightly.
Florian opened his mouth for a moment, clearly still in a daze, before he answered coarsely, "I know. I know. I'm fine."
"You're bleeding to death."
"To life. Doctor's got me."
The soft expression vanished, and the man glared at me once more, as if I wasn't the one keeping his brother alive.
"Don't fuck this up." He warned me.
I swallowed hard. "Then don't distract me. If you want him to live, let me work."
He didn't move. For a long moment, I thought he'd argue. Maybe threaten me. Maybe kill me straight.
Instead, he stepped back and nodded once. "Get her whatever she wants."