Page 38 of Raptor

She shakes her head. "It's okay."

"Mallory," the doc says softly. "I've cleaned your wound. I'm going to stitch you up now. It's going to hurt. I have some mild painkillers, but I'm afraid they won't be much help until afterward."

"It's okay, Gra. Do what you need to," Mallory slurs.

"You two know each other?" Pyro asks.

Maverick laughs. "It's Dublin. Everyone knows everyone," he quips. "But Gra works for Jer when needed, and with Mallory being practically family, she knows everyone who works for Jer."

"Unfortunately," Mallory sighs. "They're all cocky like Freddie."

"Sadly that's the truth," Graínne replies. "But I help out as I owe them, and without them I'd never have been able to get my medical license."

The doc begins to stitch Mallory's wound and I watch as my woman doesn't even flinch, not even a fucking whimper. It pisses me the fuck off. This is obviously not the first time this shit has happened.

"Okay, Mal," Gráinne says softly once she's finished. "How about I check your other injuries now? What happened to your face? Anything broken?"

"I'm grand," Mallory sighs. "Honestly, my face is the least of my worries. A washcloth will get rid of the blood. It's my arm I'm worried about. Fucker pulled it out of its socket."

Gráinne nods to Maverick and the two of them help Mallory sit up. She winces as she sits, and I'm wondering if she should be sitting up with her injury, but the doctor knows what she's doing. "Yeah, it's dislocated alright. Damn, he did a number on you, huh?"

"Tell me about it. But I'm alive and that's all that matters, right?" Mal says and I shake my head. The blasé way she's talking about what happened infuriates me. "We have an audience?" Mallory questions, her gaze on the laptop that's still on and has most of the brothers in New York watching.

"Those are our brothers, darlin'. They're in New York."

She nods in acknowledgement. "Okay, Gra, do what you need to do."

"You sure?" the doc asks. "I can go and get you some hardcore painkillers before I start?"

Mallory shakes her head. "No, just do it."

The doc's eyes soften. "Mallory, doing this without pain medication is going to hurt. You don't have to go through that pain."

"Gra, I need to have a clear head. Having painkillers is going to make me sleep and I just can't—" she pauses, her breathing hard. "I'm ready. Please, do what you need to do."

"Okay. I'm really sorry."

Mallory smiles at her before closing her eyes. I watch on, feeling helpless as the doctor gets into position. Mallory looks so fucking peaceful as she sits on the table waiting.

"Fuck," Pyro growls as the doctor reaches for Mallory's arm. "She's not goin' to pop that back into place without drugs, is she?"

"Yep," Maverick growls. "Fucking O'Leary. The sooner we find him and his father, the fucking better."

The doctor does indeed pop Mallory's shoulder back into its socket, and once again Mallory doesn't make a sound as it happens.

"Damn. How the fuck did she manage that?" I hear Mayhem say from the laptop. "Balls of fuckin' steel."

"Okay, Mal, that's in place. I'm going to clean your face and then take a look to ensure you don't need more stitches," the doc tells her, and neither of them talk as she methodically cleans the blood from Mallory's face. She's got a lot of bruising, but thankfully, nothing looks broken.

"Hey," Callie says, walking into the room, her hands filled with clothes. "Chloe and I thought you'd want some fresh clothes."

Mallory glances at Callie. "Thanks, Callie."

"Oh, sweetie, are you okay?"

Mallory nods. "I'm grand," she replies, and I have a feeling she says that a lot actually. "Thanks for the clothes, Callie. I really appreciate it. I didn't even notice that everyone is seeing me in my bra and knickers." There's laughter in her voice, and while I love that she's making jokes, nothing about this situation is funny.

"Mo ghrá," Denis says as he walks toward Callie. The two of them begin to talk quietly.

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