The Mafia's Truce.

HerMedicalVows

Nadia’s eyes remained glued to the door, her heart pounding. Is he finally here? She wondered, clinging to the faint hope that her father had come to save her. But the figure who stepped through the entrance wasn’t her father.

Two men burst into the room, dragging a third behind them, blood streaming from his wounds.

Ava shot up from her seat. “What happened?”

The men exchanged grim looks, and one spoke through clenched teeth. “We were ambushed during the heist. We got the loot, but...” His words trailed off as he gestured to the wounded man.

Nadia's gaze hardened, though outwardly, she maintained the appearance of a frightened, traumatized captive. Her wide eyes tracked the scene as Ava’s attention shifted to her.

“Nadia,” Ava called, her voice calm, “can you help him?”

Nadia hesitated, shaking her head slightly, feigning fear as her eyes grew even wider.

Ava’s cheeks widened as she strode toward Nadia. She tilted Nadia’s chin upwards, forcing her to meet her eyes. “You’re lying. I know who you are, you're one of the best neurosurgeons in Chicago.”

Nadia said nothing, her body stiff.

“If he dies,” Ava leaned in closer, her voice a threatening whisper, “twenty-eight of these men will tear you apart. And I’ll personally see to it that your screams last a long time.”

“My medical kit… It’s in my car.”

Ava snapped her fingers at James. “Go.”

He returned quickly, tossing the kit at Nadia’s feet. She knelt, forcing herself to stay calm as she unzipped it and retrieved her gloves.

“I need him on a table,” Nadia said, her voice steadier now, directing the men without a hint of fear. Ava nodded to two others, who hoisted the bleeding man onto a table nearby.

Nadia moved efficiently, her surgeon’s instinct taking over. She sterilized her hands and slipped on the gloves. Her fingers worked methodically. She examined the wounds carefully, her face expressionless.

“He’s got three bullet wounds,” she said softly, “One in the leg, one in the hand, and one in the abdomen.”

The room was silent, all eyes on her as she began cleaning the wounds. Nadia’s hands moved quickly, extracting the bullets, cleaning away the blood, and stitching him up with a precision that made even Ava blink in surprise. She administered pain medication and antibiotics before stepping back to check his vitals.

“He’s stable,” Nadia finally announced.

A collective sigh of relief rippled through the room. The wounded man stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open.

Marcus, who had been watching from a distance, allowed a small smile to form on his lips.

“What an incredible woman,” he thought, admiring her.

While the others were still distracted by the wounded man’s recovery, Nadia discreetly reached into her medical kit, slipping something small and metallic into the folds of her shirt. She removed her gloves, pulling them off with a slight snap. Her eyes drifted to her blood-stained hands.

“I need to wash this off,” she said quietly, holding up her hands for Ava to see.

Ava hesitated for a moment before giving her a slow nod. Ava gestured to the kitchen, her eyes narrowing slightly as Nadia rose to her feet.

Nadia moved toward the kitchen, but Marcus stepped into her path with a smirk, blocking her way. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Her heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to remain calm. This is the guy who saved me, she reminded herself, suppressing the surge of panic.

Before Marcus could say anything else, Ava’s voice cut through the tension. “Marcus, let her go.”

He grinned wider but stepped aside, allowing Nadia to pass.

Once inside the kitchen, Nadia scanned the room, her heart pounding in her chest. Her eyes landed on a covered pot simmering on the stove. She cautiously approached it, her senses on high alert. She opened the lid just a c***k, enough to pour the contents of the small vial she had hidden into the pot. The liquid disappeared into the food silently, unnoticed. Nadia quickly replaced the lid, careful not to make a sound, and tossed the empty vial into the trash.

She then moved to the sink, washing her hands as the cold water splashed against her skin. For a brief moment, relief washed over her. I did it.

But the relief was short-lived.

“Hey, Nadia, what’s taking so long?” Marcus’s voice echoed from the doorway, laced with suspicion.

Nadia’s heart raced as she turned to face him, her mind scrambling for an excuse. She forced a smile, her tone light. “Just making sure my hands are really clean.”

Marcus’s gaze lingered on her for a second. “You’ve been gone for a while. Everything alright?”

Nadia’s smile faltered briefly, but she quickly recovered. He saved me once… but can I trust him? “Yeah, everything’s fine,” she replied, her voice steady.

Marcus seemed to accept her answer, giving her a nod. “Let’s go,” he said, his tone lighter now as he escorted her back to the main room.

“I need to wash up,” Nadia paused, “do you have a bathroom or something?” She asked.

Ava was seated in her usual spot, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “So,” she began, her voice dripping with mockery, “because you saved one of ours, you think you’re one of us now?”

Nadia shook her head silently, her gaze drifting back to the wounded man who lay on the table, resting.

She swallowed hard, fighting to steady her breath. “Since they will be a transaction, me for my father, let me at least clean up before the exchange. My father will be upset if he sees me like this."

Ava chuckled. “Do you think we care what your father thinks?”

Nadia’s expression hardened, her voice low. "You should."

Ava’s smile faltered for just a moment, and her gaze flicked toward Marcus. A knowing look passed between them. Without a word, Marcus grabbed Nadia’s arm, dragging her toward one of the back rooms. Nadia’s heart raced as she struggled to keep up, her feet stumbling over the rough floor.

“No, please—” she began, her voice catching as she feigned panic.

Ava’s voice followed them, cool and dismissive. “He’s paid for your time. He’ll do with you as he pleases.”

The door slammed behind them, and Marcus shoved her onto the bed. He sat beside her, his expression softening. “You should wash up,” he said quietly, his eyes scanning her face with something close to concern.

Nadia exhaled shakily, her mind spinning. She glanced toward the door. “Do I have to scream?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Marcus laughed softly, shaking his head. “No need.”

She watched him carefully, the way he kept his distance. “You look hungry,” he remarked, his tone casual.

Her stomach twisted at the thought of the poisoned food. She shook her head quickly. “I’m not.”

Marcus stood, nodding toward the bathroom. “Go freshen up. They’ll be eating soon.”