Page 155 of Dangerous King
"Doctor! Now!" I bark at the young receptionist wanting to take my information.
The guard grabs my elbow from behind, trying to drag me back. "Sir, you can't just?—"
I shift my weight and drive my forehead into his nose. He drops like a sack of wet concrete, groaning. The triage room gasps collectively, but I keep walking, stepping over the bastard like he's part of the floor. An old woman barfs into a paper bag near the chairs. A nurse fumbles with a blood pressure cuff. No one moves fast enough.
"Someone get me a doctor before I start clearing this hallway with bullets," I snarl, voice low and lethal.
That gets results.
A nurse with enough sense and probably enough debt to fear men like me rushes forward. "We've got a trauma room, this way."
I follow, with my heart pounding like a war drum. The second I lower Cat onto the stretcher, three people descend on her, cutting fabric, checking vitals, asking questions I don't bother answering.
"She pulled the glass herself," I mutter. "Her pain tolerance is high. She's a fucking lion."
They ignore me. Good. That's what they're paid to do.
A nurse tries to push me back. "We need space, sir?—"
"She gets scans. Full body. You find every bruise, every fracture, every inch of that woman that hurts, and youfix it."
A new voice enters, gravelly, calm, a man in scrubs who doesn't flinch when I look at him. The attending, finally. "I'm Dr. Mirani.We've got her from here. Go sit down. You're not doing her any favors hovering like a pissed-off cage fighter."
I clench my jaw. "Call me the second you know anything."
He nods. "We will."
I step back, fists clenched at my sides, and let them wheel her out of view. That costs me more than anything I've done tonight. Letting her out of my arms. Out of my line of sight. I pace the corridor, finally pulling out my phone.
One bar. I move to the window.Dial.
"Status?" I growl at Dante the moment the line goes live, watching the parking lot from behind a smudged pane of glass. I'm wound tight, my pulse still beating hard enough to make that rushing sound in my ears.
Dante doesn't miss a beat. "Four confirmed casualties."
My stomach drops.
"Three caterers," he continues. "They delivered the cake. Poor bastards never knew what hit them."
My jaw tightens. "And the fourth?"
He hesitates, but I already know. I say, "Sabine."
Silence confirms it.
"She was standing closest," Dante murmurs. "Some of the guests said Cat and Sabine had an argument right before the bomb went off."
I close my eyes. "Fuck."
"She went quick," he adds, like that's supposed to help. "She didn't suffer."
"I want names," I say, cold and sharp. "Anyone who touched that cake."
"We're on it," Dante replies. "Mattheo is already at the bakery. The place looked clean on paper, but something happened. The entire staff is dead, and the cameras were wiped this morning. He's digging."
"And Ledyanoy Prizrak?"
"He's at the warehouse, just like you ordered. Ready whenever you are. I have ten guards on him."
