Alina’s POV
The afternoon brought a parade of doctors, all poking and prodding Maddox while making vague comments about his recovery. Despite the discomfort, he seemed surprisingly patient, likely because the pain medication was keeping him in a nice, fuzzy state.
“You’re healing well,” the surgeon said, checking bandages. “But I want you here for at least another forty-eight hours. That wound needs monitoring.”
“What if I promise to rest at home?” Maddox pleaded. “With constant care from a dedicated team?”
“By ‘dedicated team’ do you mean the same people who got you shot in the first place?” the surgeon asked dryly.
“Technically, it was a corrupt police commissioner who shot me,” Maddox corrected. “My dedicated team is just really skilled when it comes to treating injuries.”
The su
