Page 72 of Promises in the Dark

His eyes narrowed, and he looked me up and down like he was trying to figure out if I was worth his time. I just stood there, my arms crossed over my chest, daring him to make a move.

He shrugged, still wearing that infuriating smirk, but Red stepped in, putting herself between us. Always the fucking peacemaker.

“Dr. Moore,” she addressed him, her voice clipped and cold. “What brings you here?”

Dr. Asshole chuckled, thinking he’s got some comeback that was going to make him look like the fucking hero.

“Well,” he said, drawing it out like a smug prick, “when Captain Collins mentioned transferring you here, I thought they could use an extra pair of hands.”

Bitch, please.

Red scoffed and I couldn’t agree more. Dr. Jackass was needed about as much as a hole in the head, if you catch my drift.

“An extra pair of hands?” she asked, her voice getting louder. “More like an extra set of eyes on my ass.”

Dr. Dickbag chuckled darkly, his eyes sliding down her body without shame.

I was two seconds from breaking his jaw.

“You used to enjoy those eyes, Dr. Davis.”

If this were a Western, we’d be about to draw our guns.

I gritted my teeth harder, feeling the blood pounding in my temples. This asshole was literallybeggingfor a beatdown, and I was itching to give it to him. He wasn’t just hitting on my girl—he was disrespecting her, too.

“Oh, sothat’swhat this is about?” I asked. “You’re just here to stroke your fucking ego?”

Wait. Did I just saymygirl?

Dr. Dickhead’s smirk faltered just a bit, but it was enough for me to know that I’ve hit a nerve.

Good.

He looked like he was about to jump across the room and choke the shit out of me, his face turning a deep shade of red, veins popping out of his temples and I was grinning like an idiot. Damn, I was having way too much fun pissing him off. But my victory was short-lived, as I felt Red’s cold stare trained on me.

“That’s enough. Both of you,” she said, separating us like a cowboy breaking up a barfight. “We’re here to save lives, not fight each other.”

I watched her take a moment to compose herself, her hands shaking as she reached up to straighten her hair.

“I’ll do it,” she whispered, her voice trembling, like she was trying to convince herself more than him. “I’ll change his bandages.”

Dr. Fuckwad motioned to the soldier and of course, Red—ourfucking little Miss Goody-Two-Shoes—rushed right over and started checking him out, all the while looking like she was holding back the fury of a thousand suns.

Way to go, Red.

I couldn’t believe it. After everything that motherfucker had done to her, she was still listening to him, still doing his bidding like he was the fucking messiah. She was literally asking to get hurt all over again.

Stockholm syndrome in its pure form.

I was standing there, feeling defeated, pissed off, and just plain done with this shit. I didn’t say anything. What the hell was the point? Red had chosen his side.

I needed space. I needed time to cool off and figure out what the hell was going on in my head. And I sure as helldidn’t need to be around Dr. Shitstain and his bullshit drama—especially when it involved Red.

I swallowed my pride and stormed out, muttering a stream of curses under my breath that’d make a sailor blush. Fuck it. This wasn’t my fight; was Red’s. But damn, I couldn’t believe she was letting him get away with this shit again.

In the end, it was her ex, her stupid decisions, and her life that she chose to ruin.

It’s been a hell of a day.

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