Chapter 3 - SECRETS BENEATH THE SKIN AND THE WHISPER OF BETRAYAL
Working in silence under the dim amber glow of a bedside lamp, I carefully cut away the ruined gauze stuck to Dominic’s skin. The smell hit me harder this time—a nauseating wave of infected tissue and old blood. It took all my professional composure not to gag.
Dominic didn’t make a sound, but every muscle in his torso locked tight. The bullet hadn’t just grazed him; it had passed clean through the muscle fibers of his right shoulder blade, leaving an ugly, jagged entry and exit wound that looked like it had been crudely stitched up in the back of a warehouse somewhere.
“Whoever sewed this up originally should be arrested for malpractice,” I murmured, dipping a sterile gauze pad into warm saline and antiseptic.
“It was done in a hurry,” Dominic said without opening his eyes, his voice barely a rasp.
“Clearly. If you wanted a botched job, you should have just asked a butcher.” I pressed the antiseptic pad gently against the ragged edge of the wound.
Dominic’s body jerked violently, a sharp intake of breath hissing through his clenched teeth. His left hand shot out, grabbing my wrist with a grip like a vice. His fingers were scorching hot. For a second, his eyes snapped open, blazing with a dark, primal fury that made my breath catch in my throat.
“Watch it,” he warned, his voice a low, vibrating growl.
“If you break my wrist, there won't be anyone left to change your dressing tomorrow, and then you will die,” I shot back, holding my ground and refusing to pull away. “Let go of me, Mr. Rossi.”
He stared at me for three long heartbeats, studying every line of my face, testing my resolve. Slowly, his fingers loosened their grip, sliding away from my skin.
“You’re entirely fearless, aren't you?” he asked, a bitter, humorless smirk touching the corner of his bruised lips.
“I’m broke, exhausted, and running on three hours of sleep,” I corrected him, continuing to clean the wound with steady, practiced hands. “Fear is a luxury reserved for people who don’t have past-due notices stacked on their kitchen counters. Now, hold still. This part is going to hurt.”
I injected a local anesthetic around the wound margins to numb the area before debriding the dead tissue. As the medicine took effect, Dominic’s breathing slowly grew deeper and more even. The harsh tension in his shoulders began to uncoil, though the lines of pain etched around his mouth remained deep.
“Why did they all quit?” I asked quietly, keeping my eyes on my work as I began debriding the necrotic tissue. “The other nurses. Leo said one needed twelve stitches and another left crying.”
Dominic turned his head slightly, staring into the dark shadows of the room. “They were weak. Or they asked too many questions. Or they looked at me like I was a monster instead of a patient.”
“Are you a monster?”
His silence was heavier than the darkness outside the window. He didn’t deny it. He didn’t confirm it either. He simply stared into the void, a haunted shadow of a powerful man trapped inside his own fortress.
“I’m a businessman,” he finally said quietly. “And right now, my business is bleeding out on these sheets.”
“Your business is keeping your heart beating,” I corrected him, finishing the debridement and applying a fresh, sterile dressing secured with medical tape. “I’m setting up an IV line for broad-spectrum antibiotics. You’re going to hate it, but you’re going to take it.”
As I prepped the IV bag and slid the catheter into a vein on his left forearm with smooth, effortless precision, the heavy oak door of the bedroom suddenly creaked open.
Leo stood in the doorway, his face pale and taut with tension.
May you like
“Mr. Rossi,” Leo said, his voice urgent and low. “We have a problem downstairs. The courier from the dock just arrived, and he brought a message from Vincent.”
Dominic’s eyes snapped open. All traces of fatigue vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, lethal sharpness that turned the air in the room ice cold.
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