Northside Clinic
Tucked away on the edge of town, the street outside was nothing but shadows
and silence. It was well past midnight, and not even the hum of a car disturbed
the darkness.
Inside, the clinic''s lights cast a soft glow, catching on bottles and clean sheets.
Rowany on a narrow bed, battered and bleeding. Hanna, the on-call doctor,
worked quietly beside him, her hands steady, but her eyes sharp with worry.
Rowan''s injuries were no joke-five deep cuts traced across his face, hands, and
back, not to mention a dozen smaller wounds. Hanna dabbed ointment on each
one, her touch careful. Rowan gritted his teeth, jaw clenched so tight the muscles
in his neck jumped. He never made a sound, not even when his body shuddered
with the pain.
He''d dragged himself in after a fight that should have killed him, Hanna knew.
Four men against one-he''d survived, but just barely.
A sheen of sweat clung to Rowan''s brow, his whole body tense. Hanna couldn''t
keep it in anymore. "Was it worth it?" she pressed, voice low but fierce. "You
almost died for her. Does she even know? Does she understand what you''ve
gone through? Every scar on your face, your chest, your arms-she''s the reason
you''re lying here!"
Frustration and jealousy tangled inside her. She''d known Rowan for years, never
seen him care about anyone-until Anastasia showed up.
A nasty gash ran across his cheek, deep enough to scar. All this damage, all
because of Anastasia.
Rowan''s reply was barely more than a whisper. "It''s not her fault."
That only made Hanna angrier-and left her aching, too. If Anastasia understood
what Rowan had done, maybe Hanna wouldn''t feel so bitter. But Anastasia didn''t
know. Rowan was just a fool, throwing himself into the fire for someone who had
no idea.
And yet, the thought of Anastasia ever finding out made Hanna''s stomach twist.
What if she did? What if she cared for Rowan too, and Hanna lost her chance with
him?
Women, Hanna thought, always letting their hearts get the best of them.
She finished bandaging him up and
tried to sound casual. "You snuck
back here behind your brother''s
back. If he finds out, you''re dead
meat. Just stay here and heal,
alright?"
Rowan nodded, eyes squeezed shut.
He looked like he was down to his
then asked quietly, why her,
Rowan? She''s married. You know
this can''t end well."
Why? Rowan''s mind shed back to
the elevator at the Crescent Bay
Hotel, to the first time Anastasia
spoke to him. That was the first time
anyone had ever shown him
warmth, ever really cared how he
was. She was a crack of light in his
pitch-ck life. He didn''t need a
reason. He just wanted her safe,
even if she never knew why.
He said nothing, lips pressed tight.
If he''d never seen the light, maybe he could''ve kept walking in the dark. But once
he had, he''d never let anyone snuff it out-no matter what.
Hanna could see she wouldn''t get more out of him. She squeezed his shoulder
and stepped out, leaving him to rest.
She was restocking the medicine cab when sharp, urgent knocks rattled the
clinic''s front door. Thiste? Her pulse jumped. Maybe someone hurt, maybe
something worse.
She hurried over, cracked the door, and froze. Herman-she knew his face from
the news, knew his ties to Anastasia and Asher. Panic shot through her and she
tried to shut the door.
Too slow. Dailey, Herman''s muscle, shoved past her, sending Hanna stumbling.
"We''re closed!" she snapped. "No emergencies tonight, go home!"
Herman barely nced at her, his expression cold as he swept into the clinic.
Hanna darted after him, blocking his path. "Back off, or I''m calling the police. What
are you-"
Herman pushed open the door to the back room and spotted Rowan on the bed.
At the sound, Rowan''s eyes flew open. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself
upright, ready to face whatever wasing next.