Page 58 of Doc's Decision

I sit on my bike and head out with the crowd of my brothers.

We all ride like hell to get Seraphina to the surgeon and two hours fly by.

I don’t know how much time passes as we sit in a waiting room, waiting for the surgeon to come out and give us some sort of update.

Eventually, the surgeon emerges from the operating room, weary lines etched into his face. "The surgery went as well as can be expected, given her condition."

He removes his glasses, rubbing his eyes. "I've set the fracture, cleaned and stitched her wounds. Started her on a broad-spectrum antibiotic to combat infection."

Damon’s jaw is clenched tight. "What about...the other injuries?"

The doc sighs. "I've done what I can to minimize scarring from the...carvings. But she'll need time to heal, both physically and emotionally."

His gaze meets Turmoil’s, sympathy swimming in the depths. "She's young, healthy. She'll recover. But it won't be easy."

"We'll get her through it," Turmoil rasps, the heaviness of the situation weighing on him. "What about the baby?"

The doctor swallows hard, "Fortunately, the baby is okay. Granted, your girlfriend has been through a lot of stress. She needs to rest and heal. I won't get your hopes up, or completely shatter them… but be prepared for the worst case scenario. She has been through hell."

Damon nods, clasping Turmoil’s shoulder. "Doc's right. She's strong. A fighter. She'll make it." He turns to the others. "Mouser, Dixon, Doc, Spark—head back to the clubhouse. Let everyone know she's out of surgery. We'll stay with her."

We all say our goodbyes, promising to check in soon.

After a forty minute ride, the clubhouse comes into view, bikes gleaming in the floodlights.

I pull into my spot, cutting the engine.

The silence rings in my ears, too loud. Too heavy.

I need a drink.

Need to fucking forget how horrible she looked.

But more than that, I need my woman.

I need to hold Mandy in my arms and know she's safe.

I find her in my trailer, pacing restlessly in the living room.

She looks up when I enter, eyes widening. "Doc? What happened? Is Seraphina?—"

I crush her to my chest, burying my face in her hair.

She smells like citrus and sandalwood, warm and alive against me.

"She made it through surgery," I rasp, voice breaking. "She’s alive, baby. I just gotta fuckin’ hold you right now, okay?”

This is the kind of shit that we face every day—fears that the same thing that happened to Seraphina will happen to one of our women.

I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to Mandy.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Mandy

I've never been real big on visiting hospitals or long-term care facilities.

They usually smell like stale piss and cafeteria meatloaf, but Doc asked me to come with him to see his mom who just got transferred to Desert View Assisted Living.

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