I woke up in stages.
First came the ceiling. Smooth, white, and unfamiliar.
Then the bed. It was too soft, too cold. After that it was the ache in my neck. The tightness in my shoulders.
Then it all came back.
The warehouse. The blood. Jury.
I sat up slowly, my throat dry, head pounding. The blackout curtains had done their job. I had no idea what time it was. I was no longer wearing my scrubs, having changed into a pair of white shorts and a shirt that were a size too small for me. The fabric tightly clung to my hips as the shorts barely covered anything, and my shirt stretched too tight across my chest.
I rubbed at my eyes. I could pretend this was a dream, maybe, for another minute.
Then came the knock.
Three sharp raps.
I flinched.
Dragging myself to the door, I cracked it open.
Sally stood there, her arms crossed. Black slacks and a gray silk blouse today, no trace of last night's dress. Her makeup was still flawless. Her expression was still glacial.
"Sleep well?" she asked coolly.
"I woke up in a mafia estate, so… I've probably had better mornings."
Sally didn't laugh. Of course she didn't.
She gave me a slow once-over, eyes flicking to my shorts, my too-small shirt, and back to my face. I didn't move. I didn't shrink.
"You guys might want to get some bigger clothes." I mumbled as she stared me down. She didn't answer, her sharp green eyes snapping to meet mine. I frowned.
"Look," I said quietly, "I get it. You clearly don't want me here. I don't want to be here either. I'm here to do a job and stay out of the way. That's all. You don't need to be worried about me."
A beat of silence.
Sally smiled, but it was the kind of smile you gave someone before you slammed a door in their face. "Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart. You aren't even half the woman I would ever worry myself about."
I scrunched my face at her comment, my jaw ticking as I clenched it. She continued speaking. "And your plan to stay out of the way? I suggest you do just that. I don't want to see you or hear a whisper of your voice around here. Jury might have saved your life, but that doesn't mean he'll do it for the second time."
I didn't respond. I didn't flinch.
She stepped back, cocking her head toward the hallway. "He wants to see you. Now. His office is at the end of the east wing. Don't make him wait."
I nodded, about to shut the door so I could get dressed.
Sally stopped me.
Her eyes flicked back to my clothes, her tone shifting into something sharper. "When Jury calls, you run. You don't stop to fix your hair or change clothes. You show up without complaint."
"I'm barely dressed."
"Then this will be a lesson for next time. Wake up early, dress appropriately."
Then she turned and walked off like she hadn't just delivered a diluted threat.
I took a deep breath. This was going to be difficult.
Fine. Let them think I was just a terrified doctor trying to keep her head down. I'd play the game, at least until I figured out how to survive it.
---
The hallway leading to the east wing was longer than it needed to be, filled with expensive art and a stillness that made my skin itch. I passed a few people , all men in black, all with quiet eyes and quick glances.
I couldn't believe that Sally and I were the only women in this massive building.
When I reached the door marked Office, I knocked once.
"Come in," came the voice. Calm. Deep. Unmistakable.
I opened the door.
Jury sat behind a desk, sleeves rolled, tie loosened, jacket draped over the back of a nearby chair. He didn't look up as I entered, his eyes stuck on the screen of his laptop.
Sally was already in the room, standing next to him, her posture elegant and perfectly poised, like she belonged here. By his side. Like this was her space, too.
She turned slightly, her eyes catching mine. Then they trailed downward.
Again with the shorts.
She smirked, leaning over to whisper something to Jury. Only then did his eyes leave the screen to meet mine.
I stood a little straighter.
"Doctor Stafford," she said, with that fake sweetness women like her had mastered. "It's not very respectful to meet your new boss dressed like that."
I clenched my fist. That little...
"Sally," Jury said, interrupting her smoothly. "Give us the room."
Sally blinked.
It was subtle, but I caught it. Surprise. Just for a second.
She turned toward him. "You want privacy? With her?"
Jury didn't answer. He didn't even look at her.
That silence. It said everything.
Sally hesitated. Then nodded once. "Of course."
She brushed past me with a waft of perfume and pride, closing the door a little harder than necessary on her way out.
I stood there, awkward and very aware of every inch of exposed skin.
Jury's eyes moved slowly. From my legs to the hem of my shirt to my face.
"Well, Sally is correct about your... outfit not being very appropriate," he said.
"Your attack dog is the one that didn't give me the chance to change."
His mouth twitched. Something close to amusement. "Right. Next time, take a few minutes to look presentable. You live in a building overrun with men, and half of them haven't felt the touch of a woman in a long time."
I gulped, "Will they do anything to me?"
"I can't say they won't."
He stood up and circled the desk, leaning back against it with his arms folded. "Let's get this straight. You're here. You're alive because I said so. You'll stay alive because you're useful. The moment that changes, you're done."
I didn't answer.
"Your job is simple," he went on. "You're on call for injuries. Gang-related or not gang-related, it doesn't matter. You show up, you patch my men up, and you don't ask any questions unless they're for medical reasons. You will stay on this property unless I say otherwise. You will be given a phone only for calls related to this job. No contact with the outside world."
"Outside world? What about my family?" I asked him.
"Your family is a part of the outside world."
"But—"
"That's final. Understood?"
I clenched my jaw and nodded once, tears welling in my eyes.
"I asked if you understood," he repeated, slower this time.
"Yes," I said, sharper than intended.
Jury studied me. Then he turned and picked up a manila folder from the desk. Tossed it onto the surface between us.
"Inside are some changes to your identity. As far as the hospital knows, you've transferred. A relocation. Some excuse about burnout and needing a change of pace. New credentials, new job history. Clean. Believable. My team took care of it last night."
I stared at the folder. "You made it all disappear?"
"Paper trails are easy to forge when you own the people who follow them."
I swallowed hard. That folder was my life now.
"You're also scheduled for weekly check-ins with Duke or me. You will get an office to do all of your work with necessary equipment, but we'll keep an eye on you to ensure that everything is running smoothly."
I nodded again. Silence fell.
He didn't move. Just stared.
"You got something else to say?" I asked finally.
"You're braver than I expected," he said, voice quiet. "For someone who flinched at a gun last night."
"Anyone with sense would flinch."
"But not everyone would stand up after."
I didn't know what to say to that, so I didn't say anything.
His eyes flicked down again... briefly and deliberately. They stopped at the crevice of my breasts and just at the hem of my shorts. Even though his stare felt like hot iron on my skin, I held my ground.
Whatever this was... power game, intimidation tactic, whatever. I wouldn't let him win it.
"Anything else?" I asked.
Jury gave a short nod toward the door. "Sally will be waiting. She'll take you to your office."
Of course she would.
I turned to go but paused at the door.
"Why did you stop?" he asked.
I looked back over my shoulder. "You didn't have to forge a new life for me. You could've just pulled the trigger last night."
"I don't waste good assets."
"So I'm just a tool now."
"You're whatever you choose to be."
He said it so evenly, like it was the simplest truth in the world.
I didn't answer. I just walked out the door.
Sally was waiting in the hall, arms crossed.
She didn't say anything. Just turned and started walking.
And I followed her... into whatever this new, twisted version of life was going to be.