Page 96 of His Enforcer

“Alright, let’s get him into the room. I’ll get him on an IV and monitor him.”

Jax and I help bring him inside, and I situate him on a bed.

“Will he be okay?” I ask gruffly, trying to keep myself from cracking wide open.

Doc eyes me from behind his glasses, pulling on some latex gloves.

“Yes, I’ll make sure of it. You got him here quickly. Would you like to stay in here while I work?”

I nod and lower myself into an overstuffed chair as Doc inserts the IV into his arm and places a monitor on his finger. The beeping infiltrates the room just as the rain starts to come down in droves and thunder rolls across the sky.

It’s going to be a long fucking night.

I don’t sleep that night, watching as Viktor lies in bed, the beep of the machine monitoring his heart the only balm for my anxiety. The thunder cracking and lightning rolling across the sky make this seem far more ominous than it probably is.

Viktor is stable. He’s fine. The weather outside isn’t a sign of things to come.

Anthony makes an appearance in the early morning and lowers himself next to me, offering me a bottle of water.

“I’m too old for this shit,” he murmurs, and I nod, opening the water and taking a long swig.

“Me too. Why did we get involved with men half our age?”

“Fuck if I know. They’re addicting, I guess.”

He leans his head back. “We have someone looking at the footage from the club. We’ll find out if it was Henry.”

The two of us turn our gaze to the monitor.

“And Doc says he’s fine. He’s just sleeping it off. He took a blood sample and will let us know what the results are.”

“Yeah,” I murmur, still not completely sure what the fuck to do. Doc has never been wrong before, but this entire thing shaved a few years off my life.

“Viktor usually isn’t this irresponsible,” Anthony says, and I eye him.

“He is. He’s a self-destructive asshole.”

“Seems you’re both a great fit, then. How is the underground fighting going, by the way?”

I huff a small laugh and lift my water bottle in a salute. “Touché.”

We’re silent a moment and then, without looking at my best friend, I ask, “Tell me about him, Anthony. The bad shit. I need to know it all.”

Anthony is quiet for a moment and then sighs. “He’s had a roughgo of it. He wasn’t born into this life like us. He was just unlucky enough to meet me.”

“He doesn’t regret it.”

“He doesn’t. He’s proven to be very loyal, despite being raised with parents like his. As unfaithful and unloyal as they come.”

“He told me some about his parents.”

“Yes, and they’re dead now.”

I nod.

We’re silent for another beat and then Anthony shifts in his chair, his voice lowering. “They beat him, badly. They’d throw drug-fueled parties, and their friends—high as fucking kites—would be given permission to hurt him as well. I found one of them several years ago, gave him to Bane. He confessed to all of it.”

“What did he say?”

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