Burning Ashes

Crossfire

The neon lights of the city reflected off wet asphalt, shimmering like scattered jewels. Dante Ross adjusted his cufflinks, the familiar weight of the gun beneath his jacket a cold comfort. Tonight was supposed to be simple—a deal to secure his goods, no complications, no distractions.

But as he stepped out of the sleek black Sedan, a chill ran down his spine. It was Quiet, too quiet. In the shadows hid Nathaniel Rivera, a sergeant from the criminal investigation unit, was laying in ambush here to take down Dante. So as soon as he appeared, he began to move. He wanted to take down Dante so badly he forgot some important procedures.The streetlights flickered, and suddenly, chaos erupted. Guns flashed. Police had him and his men surrounded.

Dante’s eyes narrowed. Only one man could orchestrate this—Nathaniel “Nate” Rivera. His sworn enemy.

“Assassins, Take them down!” Dante barked to his men, his voice a whip-crack in the tension-filled air.

Nate was shocked why did Dante yell assassin's . later he'll come to know why. Bullets tore through the night. Nate’s squad moved with military precision, but Dante’s men were equally deadly. In the middle of it all, the two locked eyes across the battlefield—memories of hatred flashed between them.

A searing pain tore through Dante’s shoulder as a bullet from Nate found its mark. He gritted his teeth but kept moving, refusing to go down He still raised his gun and shot straight. Across the street, Nate stumbled, a crimson bloom spreading across his shirt. He cursed under his breath, realizing he was bleeding, but the fight wasn’t over.

Then sirens sounded," this is the police put down your weapons immediately, failure to do so will require us to shoot.

Suddenly surprising Nate, Dante raised his hand and dropped his gun, his men also followed suit.

Dante was arrested quietly. But Nate had a bad feeling about it. Standard procedure dictated medical treatment before arrest.Both men were whisked into an ambulance, groaning under their injuries. And headed straight to silvercrest hospital.

The call came through just as Ivy adjusted her stethoscope—two gunshot victims en route to Silvercrest Hospital, ETA five minutes. Her pulse quickened, though her face remained calm. Seconds counted.

“Trauma bay one and two—ready now!” she ordered, her voice precise. Nurses and residents snapped into action. Crash carts rolled, blood units were pulled, IVs at the ready. Ivy’s eyes swept the ER like a hawk, checking monitors, supplies, and prep for surgery.

The ambulance doors burst open, wailing sirens fading behind them. Paramedics rushed in, pushing stretchers toward the trauma bays.

“Doctor Moore, patient one Nathaniel Rivera —male, Aged 30, gunshot wound to the stomach. Pulse 132, BP 88 over 60, respirations 28, conscious but pale.” The paramedic’s voice was clipped, efficient.

“And patient two—male Dante Ross, gunshot to the shoulder. Pulse 98, BP 114 over 72, respirations 20. Alert, in pain but stable.”

Ivy nodded, processing the information in an instant. “Trauma bay one—Nathaniel. Bay two—Dante. Move!”

Dante’s shoulder wound had been stabilized in the field the bullet was visible so it was removed quickly, but he winced with every movement. Ivy moved to him first. “ Pressure dressing intact. Mandy, Start IV fluids. Morphine for pain—monitor closely. We’ll need X-rays for fragments.” Nurse Mandy nodded and began to move" yes Doc."

Then she turned to Nathaniel, who was clutching his abdomen, his skin ghostly pale. “ Mr Rivera I am Doctor Moore. You’re staying with me, understand? Keep your eyes on me.” She pressed firm, controlled hands to the wound, applying pressure while another nurse inserted an IV line. “Fluids started. Blood ready. Surgery prep is underway. You’re not going anywhere on me.”

Dante’s shoulder was cleaned and sutured under Ivy’s careful supervision, then immobilized with a brace. She watched the monitors with sharp eyes, ensuring nothing was overlooked.

Nate needed more immediate intervention. Ivy coordinated with the OR team while keeping him conscious, monitoring his vitals and administering controlled pain relief. “Stay with me, Mr Rivera. I need you awake. You’re doing perfectly,” she reassured him.

Minutes passed like hours. Finally, the OR team was ready. Ivy handed Nate over with a nod. “You’re in good hands now. I’ll see you after surgery.”

Once Nate was in the OR, Ivy returned to Dante, checking vitals and ensuring stability. Relief washed over her as his pulse steadied and color returned to his skin. “You’re going to be fine, Mr Ross. Just rest,” she said, softening her tone for the first time that evening.

By the time both men were secure—Dante in recovery, Nate in ICU—Ivy allowed herself a brief exhale. Another day at Silvercrest, another life preserved. But in a hospital like this, seconds were precious, and the work never truly ended.

In Recovery Dante, was quiet, he just thought of the doctor who treated him. She had become beautiful. She was even a doctor now. it seems her memory was still gone. flashbacks of him when he was young appeared in his mind, his ash grey eyes looking at a blue eyed girl who was running around as he sat and watched her play. The girl came up to him," Come on Dante." Dragging him along.

Opening his ash grey eyes again, through the window he looked at the busy, Blue eyed Doctor. How Did he meet her again. He then thought of Nate, did Nate also see and recognize her as well. if so life was bound to change. He then grabbed his phone, and sent a message.

10 minutes later two men appeared in his ward.