Page 40 of Poisonous Savage

"Doc'sfive minutes out,"Marcosaid, stepping back quickly to avoid my wrath.

Minutesstretched into an eternity until the sound of tires crunching gravel signaled the doctor's arrival.Aboutgoddamn time.

Heburst through the door, medical bag in hand, and wasted no time kneeling besideRosalind.Hishands moved over her with practiced urgency, assessing the damage that had been done to what was mine.

"Internalbleeding," he muttered, pressing gently on her abdomen and eliciting a soft moan fromRosalind'slips. "Ribsare fucked too."

"Fixher,"Icommanded, my voice a low rumble of contained violence.

Thedoctor's eyes met mine, a flicker of fear passing through them before he nodded. "Needto put her under.Medicallyinduced coma.Gottacheck the extent of the internal damage.Itcould be surgery.Sheneeds to go to the hospital.Ican’t do it here."

"Thendo it."Mywords left no room for argument.Iwatched, every muscle tensed, as he prepped whatever cocktail of drugs needed to send her into oblivion.

"Thisway, she won’t hurt as we move her," the doctor spoke, carefully avoiding eye contact as he administered the dose. "She'llnot feel a thing."

"Betternot."Istood over her, the darkness in me stirring at thesight of her so still.

TheysaidIruled with an iron fist.Theywere right.Butthis girl, this woman, she'd become more than just a bride, more than just a trophy.Shewas a fire that warmed even the coldest parts of me.

“Ambulancewill be here in a few.They’lldo what they need to and bring her to theOR.I’llbe waiting when they arrive.”Docwasted no time leaving and peeling out of the driveway.

Theambulance wailed as it pulled up.Inside, shit was getting more real by the second,Rosalindlying there, tubes sticking out of her like she was some goddamn cyborg.Irode shotgun with the driver, knuckles white on my thighs, each bump making me angry.

"Drivefaster,"Igrowled, voice low and dangerous, a promise of hell to pay if he didn't push that pedal down to the metal.

TheERdoors busted open, and they wheeled her away towards whatever fucking room they were going to cut her open in.Marcotrailed behind, his face a mask of stone, but those eyes gave away the storm brewing inside him.

"Should'vefucking been there sooner,"Marcomuttered, a mantra of guilt.

"Shutit,"Isnapped.Thewords tasted like acid on my tongue.Blamewasn't a luxury we could afford right now. "Focuson what we do when she wakes up.Focuson making them pay."

Wepaced back and forth, the click-clack of our boots loud in the waiting room.Nursesshot us wary glances, sensing the danger we brought into their sanitized sanctuary.Icaught sight of myself in a window reflection – a towering specter of wrath, all muscle, and ink, still bloodied from the battle.

"Desmond," one of the scrubs called out, interrupting my mental hit list.

"Talk,"Idemanded, stepping into his space.Hewas such a little man, but he held the fate of my woman.

"Preppingfor surgery," he stammered, trying to maintain some semblance of professional composure. "Internalbleeding.They'removing fast."

"Good,"Isaid, each syllable a hammer strike. "Theybetter fix her."

"Orelse?"Hiseyes flicked to mine, a silent challenge.

"Orelse the morgue will be busy tonight."

"Fuckthis waiting,"Ispit out, my hand itching for the feel of my knife, the weight of my gun.Patiencewas a virtue meant for saints, andIwas no fucking saint.

"Easy, brother,"Marcosaid, placing a broad hand on my shoulder, steadying the storm within me. "She'llpull through."

"Damnright, she will," the fire of my rage burning hotter at the thought of her waking, her dark eyes meeting mine once again. "Andwhen she does, the world better brace for the hellfire we'll rain down on them."

Wewere the darkness that crept in, the monsters they whispered about in hushed tones.Andsoon, very soon, they'd remember why they feared the night.

Thesterile light of the hospital hallway glared down, too bright, too fucking clean for a place filled with so much agony and death.Myboots echoed off the linoleum, a steady drumbeat of impatience, the leather chair creaking asIshifted.Ithad been fucking hours...

Then, salvation came.Thedoctor scrubbed up and weary-eyed, pushed through the double doors with news etched on his face.Myheart throttled against my ribs, ready to burst.

"Rosalind,"Igrowled, stepping into the man's space, close enough to smell the sweat and fear on him. "Talk."

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