The Mafia Alpha Runaway Mate

Chapter 2

We managed to stabilize the injured driver and pull him from the SUV before rushing him to the nearest hospital. The other victims were left with the paramedics who arrived shortly after us.

By the time Adrian, Marcus, and I returned to the station, we had barely finished cleaning the ambulance and replacing the supplies we had used when another call came through. The next few hours passed in a blur of minor accidents and emergency cases. We treated a man injured during a domestic dispute, responded to a shopping center where someone had collapsed, and later spent nearly twenty minutes trying to revive an elderly man who had suffered a heart attack before we were forced to accept that we had lost him.

By the time our shift was nearing its end, all I wanted was to go home.

Then the radio crackled.

Adrian grabbed his jacket and looked at me. “Another one.”

I sighed and followed him toward the ambulance. “What is it?”

“A shooting on Twenty-Seventh Avenue.”

I slowed for a moment before climbing inside. Twenty-Seventh Avenue was one of the worst areas in the city. Drug trafficking and gang violence were common there, and shootings were hardly unusual.

“Figures.”

Marcus started the engine, and we pulled away from the station.

We reached the scene in less than five minutes. The police had already blocked off the road, and several officers were gathered outside a large warehouse while two injured men lay near the entrance surrounded by paramedics. One glance at their wounds told me they had both been shot.

“There are more inside,” an officer told us as we approached. “Two near the center of the warehouse and another one behind the building.”

I nodded and grabbed my medical bag. “Let's go.”

Adrian followed me inside.

The warehouse was enormous and almost completely empty, with our footsteps echoing across the concrete floor as we moved deeper inside. I spotted the two men almost immediately. They were both young, probably around twenty, and the clothes and tattoos made it obvious that they belonged to one of the city's most notorious gangs, the Red Vipers.

I dropped beside the first man and checked his pulse.

Nothing.

Adrian moved to the second.

“He's dead.”

I checked the other man myself and shook my head. “Dead.”

Adrian looked at me. “Should we start compressions?”

Before I could answer, two paramedics rushed toward us from the entrance.

“They've got it,” I said, standing. “Let's check the one at the back.”

As we headed toward the rear exit, Adrian lowered his voice. “You think this was a Red Vipers hit?”

“Maybe.”

“Or the Black Serpents?”

I glanced at him. “Not our problem. The police can figure that out.”

He nodded, and we stepped through the back door.

Marcus was already maneuvering the ambulance around the building. A young man lay on the ground near the wall with two police officers standing over him. Unlike the others, he was still conscious.

One of the officers stepped aside when he saw me.

I knelt beside the injured man and reached for his abdomen, but before I could examine the wound, he jerked away.

“Get the hell away from me, b***h!”

I raised an eyebrow.

He looked younger than the others, barely twenty, and blood was spreading across his shirt from the gunshot wound in his abdomen.

“If you don't let me examine you,” I said calmly, “you're going to bleed to death.”

He continued clutching the wound with both hands, but blood pushed through his fingers and formed a dark pool beneath him.

“Want us to cuff him?” one of the officers asked.

I kept my eyes on the injured man. He was still conscious, which meant there was a chance we could save him if we acted quickly.

“I don't think that's necessary, officer. He looks smart enough to know that dying isn't a great idea. Am I wrong?”

A weak laugh escaped him before pain twisted his expression.

“It's either death or prison,” he muttered. “I don't know which is worse.”

“Live long enough to find out,” I whispered.

His dark eyes met mine.

For several seconds, he said nothing. Then he slowly removed his hands from the wound and gave me a reluctant nod.

I lowered him carefully onto his back and cut away his blood-soaked shirt. The bullet had entered through the side of his abdomen, and when I rolled him slightly, I found the exit wound on the other side. The fact that the bullet had passed through gave him a better chance, but there was no way to know how much internal damage it had caused until we controlled the bleeding.

I pressed thick gauze against the wound while Adrian inserted an IV into his arm. As I reached for another bandage, I noticed the tattoo on the man's upper arm.

A red serpent wrapped around an R.

Red Vipers.

My suspicion had been right.

“We need to get him to the hospital now,” I said.

George brought the stretcher over, and with the officers' help, we lifted the young man onto it and secured him before wheeling him toward the ambulance.

Once we had him inside, one of the officers looked at us. “We'll escort you to the hospital.”

I nodded and climbed into the back while Adrian continued monitoring the patient.

We had barely started the engine when the screech of tires made me turn toward the road.

A massive black SUV came around the corner and stopped beside us.

Four men stepped out.

The moment I saw the weapons in their hands, my body tensed. The two officers reacted just as quickly and reached for their guns, but neither managed to draw before the men opened fire.

Four gunshots tore through the street.

The officers collapsed beside the ambulance.

Adrian ducked instinctively, but I remained frozen for a moment, staring at the men outside.

Then I caught their scent.

They weren't human.

Werewolves.

One of them walked toward the back of the ambulance while the other three remained outside, weapons raised as they watched the road. The rear doors opened, and the man looked inside.

His eyes immediately found the injured Red Vipers member lying on the stretcher.

A wide grin spread across his face.

“The son of a b***h is alive,” he announced.

The others seemed pleased, but their attention soon shifted toward us. One man stepped forward. Unlike the others, he had no tattoos covering his neck or hands. He raised his pistol and pointed it directly at me.

“Which one of you is the medic?”

I swallowed and answered, “I am.”

The man beside him raised his weapon.

The shot came before I could react.

Adrian's body dropped beside the ambulance.

A second shot followed, and George collapsed before he even had a chance to move.

For a moment, everything went silent.

I looked at them and knew there was nothing I could do. They were both dead.

“What a shame,” one of the werewolves muttered. “I liked George.”

“Good,” the man holding the gun replied. “Looks like you just earned yourself a ride around the city.”

He pointed toward the back of the ambulance with a faint smirk.

“Get inside. You're going to keep my friend alive. After that, we'll decide what to do with you.”

I looked at the injured Red Vipers member before climbing into the ambulance.

I had managed to slow his bleeding, but the wound still needed proper treatment. I was pressing fresh gauze against his side when I felt the cold barrel of a gun against my lower back.

One of the men took the driver's seat while another sat beside him. The man they had called Damon remained in the back with me, his weapon trained on my body as he watched every move I made.

“Could you move the gun a few inches away?” I asked. “I'm trying to save your friend's life, and having a weapon pressed against my back isn't exactly helping.”

A low chuckle came from behind me.

A moment later, the pressure disappeared.

I continued treating the injured man while quietly paying attention to our surroundings. We had been driving for more than twenty minutes, heading east at a steady speed. Through the small rear window, I watched the road and tried to work out where they were taking us.

If we continued in that direction, we could be heading toward Blackridge Heights, an isolated area on the outskirts of the city where several powerful criminals were rumored to own enormous estates.

The injured man suddenly cried out as I began removing the blood-soaked gauze from his wound.

“What the hell are you doing?” Damon snapped.

“I need to clean the wound properly,” I replied. “I can't give him pain medication while I'm trying to control the bleeding. Every second matters.”

I exhaled slowly. “If you hadn't killed my partner, this would have been much easier.”

“No kidding.”

I glanced over my shoulder.

For the first time, I got a proper look at Damon. His eyes were a striking light blue, and a sharp line had been shaved from his eyebrow toward the side of his head. It wasn't a scar but a deliberate style. When I looked at the injured man, I noticed the same mark on him, although his was less noticeable.

Damon caught me staring.

“You're surprisingly calm.”

I turned back toward the wound.

“You kidnapped me, killed my colleagues, and you're taking me somewhere I don't know, yet you haven't even started shaking.”

His voice carried a strange amusement.

“Why aren't you nervous?”

“Because being nervous won't save me.”

I kept working. Right now, the only thing that mattered was keeping the injured man alive.

“What’s your name?” I asked him.

He winced as I worked on the wound and glanced toward Damon.

“What the hell does that matter?” Damon hissed.

“I wasn't talking to you.”

The injured man hesitated.

“What's your name?”

Damon answered in Spanish before the young man could speak.

“Go ahead and answer her. It's not like she'll live long enough to tell anyone.”

I kept my expression blank and continued working.

“Beni,” the injured man finally muttered through gritted teeth.

“Alright, Beni. I need you to take a deep breath and stay still while I release the pressure on the wound. I'm going to give you something for the pain, but it won't put you completely to sleep. Can you do that?”

He nodded weakly.

“Good. On three.”

I counted slowly before lifting my hands from the wound.

Blood immediately began seeping through the opening, but it wasn't pouring out as quickly as before. I grabbed a syringe, prepared the medication, and injected it into the IV line.

I had barely returned to his side when the ambulance suddenly came to a violent stop.

I caught myself against the wall and looked down at Beni.

The exit wound on his back had started bleeding again.

“Damn it.”

I reached for the gauze, but Damon was already standing behind me.

“End of the line.”

He pressed the gun against the side of my head.

“You're going to continue inside the house.”

“I need a sterile environment and the surgical equipment in this ambulance if you want me to keep him alive.”

“You'll have it. The others will bring everything inside.”

He pulled the gun away and pointed toward the doors.

“Now get out.”

I climbed out without arguing.

The moment my feet touched the ground, I realized how late it had become. The sky was already dark, and the lights from the property barely reached beyond the driveway.

I looked around and immediately recognized the area.

Blackridge Heights.

My guess had been right.

The place Damon had casually called a house was actually a massive mansion built from glass, steel, and pale stone. Dim lights illuminated the gardens around the property, while a wide waterfall flowed through the center of the courtyard.

The entrance alone was enormous, with a solid wooden door several meters above the ground. The building stretched around the courtyard in a wide U-shape, and a long balcony ran across the upper floor. Beyond it, I caught sight of a swimming pool enclosed by glass walls.

“Keep moving.”

The tattooed man pressed his gun against my side.

I walked toward the entrance, keeping my eyes down while taking in everything around me.

The moment we stepped inside, several men began speaking in Spanish.

One of them addressed the tattooed man as Gambo.

“Clear the game room,” Gambo ordered. “I want everyone out before we bring him in.”

The men immediately moved.

I followed without protest, but I continued scanning the mansion.

There were more men than I had expected, at least twelve. Most looked like ordinary foot soldiers who followed orders without question. Gambo and Damon were different. The others watched them before making a move, which told me exactly where the chain of command stood.

I lowered my gaze before anyone noticed how carefully I was studying them.

I needed an escape route.

There had to be one.

A blind spot in the security, an unlocked door, a weapon left unattended, anything I could use when the opportunity came.

Because sooner or later, they would realize they no longer needed me.

And when that happened, I would end up just like Adrian and George.

Dead !