Page 50 of Twisted Steel

Mama M moves first, followed by Saint.Steel stays above me, close enough that I feel the heat of him, the rage rolling off him in waves.

“You shouldn’t be touching him,” Steel says.

“I’m not asking him to marry me.I’m keeping him alive.”

“He’s one of theirs,” he points out unhelpfully, like I wasn’t aware.

“He is my patient.”The words are sharp, and absolute.Steel goes quiet.

I work fast.Gloves.Pressure.Airway.Pulse.His breathing is too shallow, skin cold under my fingers.He’s bleeding internally.I can slow the external damage, maybe buy some time, but I can’t fix what is happening beneath the muscle and bone.

“What’s your name?”I ask.

His eyes flutter.“Dante.”

“Okay, Dante.Stay with me.”

His gaze moves past me to Savage.“Reaper ...taking it too far.”

Savage crouches several feet away, eyes cold.“Talk.”

Dante groans when I pack the wound.“He put the hit on your medic.Wasn’t supposed to be her.But he’s decided it will make Steel stupid.”

My hands pause for half a second, and Steel goes completely still.There’s something more frightening than his anger.This.The absence of it.The terrible blank silence where a man decides what the world will cost.

I force my hands to keep moving.“Breathe, Dante.”

His mouth twists.“Trying.”

“You’re doing a terrible job.”

A faint laugh breaks into a cough.Blood bubbles at his lip.Fuck.

“Harper,” Steel says.

“I know.”I do know.He’s crashing.But knowing doesn’t mean stopping.It never does.

Dante’s eyes find mine.“You’re her?”

“I’m me.Focus.”

He swallows hard.“Didn’t want ...woman dead.”

“Great.Hold that moral development and keep breathing.”

Savage leans closer.“Where is Reaper?”

Dante’s hand twitches toward his cut pocket.Saint moves, pulling out a folded paper stained red.Savage takes it.

“Warehouse,” Dante whispers.“Tonight.He thinks Steel will come alone.Thinks he can cut him out of the club.”

Steel laughs once, but it’s not a human sound, and causes Dante to flinch.

I press harder on the wound.“Don’t look at him.Look at me.”

His eyes return to mine.Younger now.Scared.Just a man bleeding out on a dirty floor.I hate this world.I hate that everyone in this room sees the enemy before they see the body.Mostly, I hate that I understand why.

Dante’s pulse weakens under my fingers.“No,” I say sharply.“Stay with me.”His eyelids flutter.“Mama M, call County.Tell them we’re bringing a critical trauma.”