My new office looked nothing like a clinic.
It looked like a showroom.
The floors were pale marble, the walls smooth concrete, and along one side stood a sleek bank of drawers and cabinets, all spotless. A long glass table stretched under the window, lined with advanced equipment I hadn't seen outside of conference demos... a state-of-the-art sterilizer, a portable scanner, and a surgical-grade exam bed that rose and tilted with the push of a button.
I didn't know what I'd expected from an underground mafia clinic, or whatever the hell they called themselves. Mafia? Gang? Organization? Still, I had been waiting for a dark basement, maybe one full of rusted tools and blood on the walls.
But this?
This was high-tech, professional, and clean.
And somehow, that just made everything worse.
It meant they were prepared. This wasn't a one-time emergency. Not a temporary solution. This was infrastructure. Made to last for as long as possible. Years. That realization sat heavy on my chest.
The first knock came just before noon.
A man stepped in, probably in his mid-thirties, scrawny, with blood crusted across his cheek. His knuckles were split open, the skin around them raw and swelling.
"I'm not interrupting anything, right?" He asked, his tone casual as if he was asking for a small favor.
I blinked and then shook my head. "Sit. What happened?"
"Guy owed us. Didn't want to pay."
I didn't respond. Just rolled out the tray and pulled on gloves.
The tension in my jaw grew as I worked. His hand was a mess. At least three of the knuckles were fractured. I cleaned, disinfected, and dressed it, all while he cracked jokes about the other guy's face.
I didn't ask questions. Not outside of the medical ones.
Just as Jury had said.
The second patient arrived a little while later, limping hard.
This one was younger. A sharp jaw and a fresh split across his brow. His thigh was wrapped in a makeshift bandage that was soaked through and clearly done in the dark.
He didn't say much. He just grunted as he pulled himself onto the table.
When I unwrapped his leg, I tried to mask a wince. Ouch.
Stab wound. Clean cut, but deep.
"You're lucky," I murmured, examining the muscle. "No major arteries."
"Didn't feel like luck at the time."
I stitched in silence. His breathing slowed once the painkillers kicked in. His eyes flicked toward me a few times.
"You're the new doctor," he said eventually.
"Good deduction."
He smiled, but it faded fast.
"Word has been going around about a new lady in the building. Hopefully, you're nicer."
I paused. "What do you mean nicer?" I wasn't supposed to be asking him, but in my defense, he's the one who started the conversation. Besides, I was curious about what he had to say.
"I'm sure you've met Sally."
"Quite the charmer, she is." I mumbled sarcastically, keeping my eyes on the wound.
"She's a nasty bitch. To everyone besides her beloved, our boss. You don't want to mess with her."
I didn't answer. Sounds like a real charmer, all right. And what did he mean by 'beloved'? Was she in a relationship with Jury? That would explain why they were close to one another whenever I saw them... but Jury didn't really treat her like his lover, did he?
I bit my lower lip, wanting to ask. Still, I didn't. Sally or Jury could be monitoring me for all I knew, and the plan was to stay as invisible as possible if I wanted to survive this. I didn't need to interfere with relationships I had nothing to do with.
Besides, if they really were a couple, those bastards deserved each other.
"There have been other women before you, though not doctors. There were assistants, chefs, and maids, but none of them lasted long. Sally got rid of them all. She wants to be the only female in this organization. Believes that there's only one queen in a kingdom." The man continued.
My eyebrows furrowed. "Got rid of them? How?"
"You know how."
My blood ran cold, and I took a sharp breath.
Then he leaned in slightly, voice low.
"If you're smart, you won't get too comfortable. The injuries you'll witness in here are the least of your concerns now. You're in a lion's den now." His eyes darkened. "And that lioness is the craziest bitch in the region. Ask all the bodies she's crushed under her heels."
Before I could respond, the door burst open. I whipped my head, and the man I was stitching up leaned back.
It was Duke.
His face was tight, serious.
"Nora," he said, not glancing at the man. "Now."
My heart kicked up. "What happened?"
He didn't answer. He just jerked his head. "Come. Now."
I yanked the gloves off and tossed them in the bin as I followed behind him. He moved fast, each step forcing me to take two. What was going on? Was I in trouble for speaking to that patient?
The halls felt colder than when I arrived here. Harsher.
Duke stopped near a stairwell, and I paused next to him. Two men were pacing like animals, one of them shouting into a phone. My eyes darted between them, and I felt even more confused.
Another man stepped out of a side room. "They're not going to make it, man! They're not going to fucking make it!"
My stomach dropped. This was a medical emergency.
"Duke, what's happening?" I finally asked.
He turned and looked at me, his expression unreadable.
"The Mason Gang hit one of our cars outside the city. Two men made it out. The others are…" His voice went grim. "You're about to see why we need a doctor around here."
I opened my mouth, but before I could ask for more information, a scream echoed from the hallway ahead. Followed by another voice. Deep, wet, gasping.
I froze.
Duke glanced back at me. "Hope you're ready."
I wasn't.
But I nodded anyway.
Because what else could I do?