A Dangerous Promise
1288 Words
POV: Amy
Nathan was slipping.
Not fast enough to call it a crisis,
but fast enough to make every second feel like a countdown.
His chest rose in shallow, uneven breaths.
Sweat dampened his hair.
He winced with every exhale.
We had no equipment, no medical charts, no sterile environment.
Just a dim concrete stairwell that smelled like dust and old paint.
But I was still a doctor.
Intern or not.
I knew how to fight for someone.
“Ethan,” I said, working to keep my voice calm,
“I need light.”
He flicked on his phone flashlight and crouched beside me.
Nathan stirred faintly, eyes half-open.
“Nathan,” I murmured, “can you hear me?”
A groan.
Barely.
I pulled in a breath.
“This is going to hurt. I’m sorry.”
He nodded—almost imperceptibly.
I lifted his shirt, revealing deep bruising spreading across his ribs.
Purple-black.
Angry.
My stomach tightened.
A broken rib was possible—likely.
Internal bleeding… a threat I hated not being able to rule out.
I pressed gently along his side.
Nathan hissed sharply.
“Yeah,” he rasped, “that’s broken.”
At least he was conscious enough to joke.
Ethan hovered anxiously.
“Should we… splint it or something?”
“No,” I said.
“Broken ribs usually need time. And breathing support. The best thing we can do is keep him still.”
Nathan cracked a crooked smirk.
“Wasn’t planning to tap dance.”
Even half-delirious, he tried to defuse the tension.
It only made my chest ache more.
I checked his pupils—responsive.
Good.
And his pulse—fast, but present.
“He might have internal bruising,” I told Ethan quietly, “but his vitals are holding. As long as he stays conscious, we’re okay.”
“Conscious,” Nathan muttered, “is overrated.”
I actually smiled.
Just barely—
but I did.
Ethan leaned closer.
“What else do you need?”
I considered.
“Water. Pressure bandage. Pain control.”
All things we didn’t have.
Ethan rubbed a hand down his face.
“Okay. I’ll go—”
“No.”
I grabbed his wrist.
He froze.
“If he’s still watching the building, you walking out there alone could get you killed.”
Ethan swallowed.
“But staying here—”
“Is the safest thing we can do until David comes.”
Nathan’s fingers brushed my arm—weak, but purposeful.
“Amy…”
“I’m here,” I said instantly.
His eyes cracked open again.
“Don’t… wait for him.”
The words sliced through me.
“You need help now,” he whispered.
“And you don’t know if he’ll make it in time.”
“He will,” I said.
Nathan’s brows pinched—pain and disbelief twisting together.
“You’re putting your life on a promise.”
“I know.”
Nathan shook his head—regret bleeding through his expression.
“He’s not…”
Breath hitched.
“He’s not who you think he is.”
I steadied him as he coughed—sharp and deep.
“I know he’s not perfect,” I said softly.
Nathan gave a faint, broken laugh.
“That’s the understatement of the year.”
I brushed hair from his forehead.
“I know he’s made mistakes. But he’s trying to fix them.”
Nathan stared at me—really stared—like he was deciding whether I was brave or foolish.
Maybe both.
“I’m not defending what he’s done,” I continued.
“But I know he doesn’t want anyone hurt. Not anymore.”
Nathan’s gaze softened.
“You still trust him.”
“I do.”
Even if I shouldn’t.
Even if every rational part of my brain screamed otherwise.
Nathan’s eyes fluttered closed again, exhaustion pulling him under.
“Then I hope,” he murmured,
“you’re right.”
I looked at Ethan.
“Help me sit him up. If he stays too still, his lungs could collapse.”
Ethan nodded and helped me shift Nathan into a semi-reclined position against the stair rail.
Nathan groaned but didn’t fight.
I pressed lightly against his ribs again.
“On a scale of one to ten,” I asked,
“how bad does it hurt?”
Nathan cracked one eye open.
“Is twelve an option?”
I exhaled—half sigh, half laugh.
“It means you’re alive,” I said.
“Lucky me.”
We sat in uneasy silence.
The stairwell felt too quiet.
Too enclosed.
Like an unfinished thought.
Ethan finally broke it.
“So… the guy on the roof.”
He swallowed.
“He wasn’t trying to kill us.”
“No,” I said.
“He was communicating.”
“By throwing Nathan into a wall?”
I nodded grimly.
“A message.”
Ethan looked nauseous.
“Then what’s Rafe like?”
Nathan opened his eyes.
“Worse.”
Ethan paled.
“You mean more violent?”
“No,” Nathan whispered.
“Worse because he doesn’t need to be.”
The words settled in my stomach like lead.
I leaned closer to Nathan.
“What does he want?”
Nathan stared at the ceiling—breathing carefully.
“Leverage.”
“Over David.”
Nathan nodded once.
“And you’re leverage,” he added, looking at me.
My skin prickled.
“Why me?”
Nathan’s gaze softened.
“Because you matter to him.”
I looked down.
My hands shook.
I didn’t deny it.
Ethan looked between us.
“So… what’s David’s plan?”
Nathan laughed—then winced.
“David doesn’t plan,” he said.
“He reacts.”
“And now?”
Nathan’s voice dropped.
“Now he’s running straight into the fire.”
The stairwell settled into silence again—heavy but not hopeless.
I checked Nathan’s breathing—still shallow but stable.
“How long until he gets here?” Ethan asked.
“I don’t know,” I said.
Nathan’s hand suddenly twitched—grabbing my sleeve.
“Amy…”
“Yes?”
“Don’t let him face Rafe alone.”
His voice was frayed—threadbare.
“You’re the only one who can stop him from throwing himself away.”
Emotion tightened around my chest.
“I’m not strong enough to fight someone like Rafe.”
Nathan shook his head—small, insistent.
“That’s not how you fight.”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Nathan looked at me with a weary smile—one that carried truth I didn’t understand yet.
“You’re his reason.”
The words hit deep.
Too deep.
Before I could respond—
before I could even process—
Nathan stiffened suddenly.
Every instinct in me went cold.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered.
He inhaled sharply—eyes darting up the stairwell.
“Someone’s here.”
Ethan froze.
I stood, heart racing.
Footsteps echoed above.
Slow.
Measured.
Not rushed.
Not panicked.
Purposeful.
Ethan grabbed my arm.
“Amy—”
I shook him off—stepping in front of Nathan without thinking.
The footsteps grew closer.
Closer.
My pulse hammered.
Then—
The door at the top of the stairwell burst open.
Harsh fluorescent light spilled down, cutting through the shadows.
A silhouette stood in the doorway.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered.
Breathing hard.
For a heartbeat, silence.
Then—
relief slammed into me like a wave.
“David.”
His eyes found mine instantly—dark, frantic, burning.
He didn’t blink.
Didn’t breathe.
He just said my name—
a prayer and a curse all at once.
“Amy.”
And in that moment—
every broken alarm inside me finally
went quiet.
- Writer
