Chapter 10: bruised ribs and burning glances
760 Words
Chapter 10: Bruised Ribs and Burning Glances
Sky’s fingers trembled against the steering wheel. She didn’t know if it was the wind whistling through the broken window or the adrenaline that was still burning in her chest, but either way—her heart hadn’t slowed once since they left the warehouse.
“I thought you said you could drive,” Maddox muttered, his voice dry and raspy from blood loss and pain.
She shot him a look. “I can. Just not during high-speed shootouts!”
“Well, I’m bleeding out in your passenger seat,” he muttered, pressing a hand to the fresh wound at his side, “so maybe next time don’t hit every damn pothole in the city.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry your gunshot wound is getting a rough massage from the car’s suspension,” she snapped, trying not to sound like her teeth were chattering from fear. “Maybe next time, drive yourself.”
He exhaled a strained laugh that turned into a wince. “Feisty.”
“And conscious, which is more than I can say for what you’ll be in ten minutes if you keep losing blood like that,” she replied.
They skidded into the entrance of the underground parking garage she barely remembered existed, and the car screeched to a halt. Her chest rose and fell like she’d run a marathon. Maddox looked pale, like death was already picking out curtains.
Sky jumped out and ran around to help him, arms flailing and voice urgent. “Okay, come on, MaddoxRed4 or whatever the hell your code name is, we’re not dying today.”
He smirked, lips cracked and eyes glassy. “It’s just Maddox.”
“Well, I liked MaddoxRed4 better. Sounds like a WiFi password,” she said as she slung his arm over her shoulder and half-dragged, half-carried him into the shadowy corridor.
They stumbled through a side door, her shoulder screaming in protest from his weight. “Are we being followed?” she asked.
“If we were, they’d already be dead,” he muttered.
“Wow. Comforting.”
“Don’t mention it.”
⸻
Ten minutes later, Sky had transformed a dusty janitor closet into a makeshift triage room. Maddox lay on the floor with his shirt cut open, while Sky hovered over him with an IV bag made from bottled water, chewing gum, and too much YouTube medical content.
“Are you even qualified to do this?” he asked, watching as she sterilized a scalpel with a lighter.
“No,” she said sweetly, “but you’re the one who dragged me into a mafia war, so maybe shut up and let the girl with steady hands work.”
Maddox stared at her. Blood dried on his jaw, sweat beaded across his forehead, and his usually slick hair was falling messily into his eyes. She looked up mid-suture, their eyes locking.
Something flickered.
“Why did you help me?” he asked, voice raw now—not just from pain, but from something unspoken.
She didn’t answer for a long moment. Then she said softly, “Because you weren’t supposed to die on my shift.”
He blinked. “That’s it?”
She nodded once. “That’s it.”
But it wasn’t. Not really. Not when her hands wouldn’t stop shaking even though the danger had passed. Not when her breath hitched every time she looked at his face and saw the blood. Not when her heart kept whispering don’t die even when she tried to shut it up.
⸻
Later, when Maddox finally fell asleep—deep, dreamless, and safe for now—Sky sat by the wall, knees pulled to her chest, staring into the dark.
How had her life gone from chasing coffee orders to dodging bullets?
She was no longer “just a nurse.”
She was… something else now. Something dangerous. Something wrapped up in blood and secrets and a man whose name she hadn’t even known until three days ago.
The silence stretched.
Then—
Bang.
Sky jolted upright.
Another bang.
But it wasn’t a gun.
It was the sound of boots. Multiple. On concrete.
Coming this way.
She turned toward Maddox.
Still unconscious.
Her mind spun. No weapon. No plan. No backup.
The door to the stairwell creaked.
Sky grabbed the scalpel and held her breath.
And then—
A voice.
A familiar one.
Too familiar.
“…Sky?”
Her blood froze.
She knew that voice.
No.
He couldn’t be here.
He was supposed to be dead
- Writer
