Chapter 8 #2
I check my watch—eight minutes until the first ambulance arrives. No time to process what just happened. I’ll deal with Alex later, possibly with HR involved. For now, patients need me focused and present.
Whatever happens with Alex, whatever danger still lurks from the Reapers, whatever complications arise from my new relationship with Zach, all of it can wait. Right now, someone’s life depends on me being completely present.
The ambulance doors swing open, and I step forward, already calling for vitals and an assessment. This, at least, is something I know how to handle.
* * *
Two days later, I’m finally back on something resembling a normal schedule.
The aftermath of the hospital shooting has begun to settle, though security remains heightened throughout the building.
I’ve managed to avoid Alex entirely since the supply closet incident, switching shifts with other doctors when possible and making sure I’m never alone in a room with her.
As I sign out at the end of my shift, exhaustion weighs on my shoulders.
Between the long hours, the constant vigilance, and the emotional toll of processing everything that’s happened, I feel stretched thin.
The only bright spot has been Zach, who’s texted regularly throughout my shifts and called whenever I had a break.
“Heading out, Doc?” asks Tommy, one of the club prospects Zach assigned to keep an eye on me. He’s young, early twenties at most, with an eager-to-please demeanor that makes him seem more like an enthusiastic puppy than a motorcycle club member in training.
“Yeah, finally,” I say, rolling my shoulders to release some tension. “Can you give me a ride to pick up my car?”
“Sure thing.” He perks up, clearly pleased to be useful. “Slaughter said I’m to stick with you wherever you need to go.”
I smile despite my fatigue. Zach’s protectiveness should feel stifling, but somehow it doesn’t. “I also need to get a haircut. It’s been weeks, and I’m starting to look unprofessional.”
“No problem. Livie’s shop, right? That’s where most of the guys go.”
I nod, following him out to the parking lot where his motorcycle waits. The ride to the garage is quick, and after retrieving my car, I lead the way to Livie’s salon with Tommy following closely behind on his bike.
The shop is busy when we arrive, the familiar buzz of clippers and chatter filling the air. Livie spots me immediately, her face lighting up as she finishes with her current client.
“Xavier!” She waves me over, her hair bouncing with the movement. “Perfect timing. I just finished with this gentleman.”
I settle into her chair, grateful for the timing. Livie drapes the cape around me, her fingers already assessing the state of my hair.
“So,” she says, meeting my eyes in the mirror, “word around the club is that you and Slaughter are officially a thing now.”
Heat rises to my face. “News travels fast.”
She grins, starting to comb through my hair. “Honey, in this family, news doesn’t travel, it teleports.” Her expression softens. “He’s been different since you came along. Calmer. Happier.”
“It’s still new,” I admit, surprised by how easy it is to talk to her. “But it feels… right.”
“The best ones always do.” She begins trimming my hair, her movements precise and confident. “So, catch me up. How’s hospital life treating you?”
I hesitate, then decide to confide in her. There’s something about Livie that inspires trust, and I need to tell someone about what happened. “Actually, I’ve been dealing with a situation at work. A nurse who won’t take no for an answer.”
Livie’s hands pause momentarily before resuming their work. “What kind of situation are we talking about?”
I explain what happened in the supply closet, keeping my voice low despite the noise of the salon. As I speak, Livie’s expression darkens, her lips pressing into a thin line.
“She grabbed you?” she confirms, anger flashing in her eyes. “After you’d made it clear you weren’t interested?”
“Yeah,” I sigh, the weight of the memory settling uncomfortably. “It’s not the first time she’s been inappropriate, but it was definitely the most aggressive that day.”
“And what are you doing about it?” Livie asks, her tone deceptively casual as she resumes cutting.
“I filed a report with HR. But these things take time to process, so, meanwhile, I’m stuck working with her.”
Livie makes a noncommittal sound, but there’s something in her expression that makes me nervous. “What’s her name? This nurse.”
“Alex Donovan,” I say, immediately regretting it when I see the gleam in Livie’s eyes. “But HR is handling it. Really.”
“Of course they are, honey.” Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Now, how short do you want the sides?”
The conversation shifts to safer topics after that, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve set something in motion. When she finishes, my hair looks great, professionally styled but still maintaining enough length on top to suit my face.
“Perfect,” I say, examining her work in the mirror. “You’re a miracle worker, Livie.”
“Just doing my job.” She removes the cape with a flourish. “And, Xavier? Don’t worry about that nurse. Some problems have a way of solving themselves.”
Her words follow me out of the salon, a vague uneasiness settling in my stomach as I head home.
* * *
Zach
Greyson texts me, summoning me to the garage with a single, cryptic line. Trouble with the girls. Meet me. I find him already astride his bike, helmet propped on his knee, impatience radiating from him in waves.
He uses his phone to guide himself toward them and as I get closer, I recognize exactly where we are going.
To the hospital.
The roar of the motorcycles dies as Greyson and I swing our legs down when we pull to a stop.
I tuck my helmet under my arm and take in the scene.
A woman is pressed against a car. Livie, Tiana, and Meadow stand over her with bruised knuckles and murderous glares.
My chest tightens so fast I can almost taste the anger.
This is not fucking good.
My sister is grinning from ear to ear, loving the fact that she was just in a fight. Over the years we have gone toe to toe, and I know she does not fight fair at all.
Greyson’s voice is a low growl. “Livie. Explain. Now.”
Before she can speak, I shove past her and step right up to the woman. Her eyes go wide at the sight of me. I stare. “Who is she?” I demand. “What did she do?” I know whatever she did was bad or the girls wouldn’t have ever ganged up on her in the first place.
Tiana lifts her chin, looking at me dead-on. “She’s the nurse, Alex, who sexually assaulted Xavier. Cornered him in a supply closet. Tried to ‘convert’ him, as she calls it, and grabbed him inappropriately.”
My blood runs ice cold. I want to shove Alex’s face into the asphalt. “She what?”
Alex whimpers and shrinks back. “I didn’t know.”
“She cornered him,” Livie says. “Grabbed him. Told him she could ‘fix’ him.”
My vision narrows and turns red. I take a step forward, my fist clenching, but Greyson’s hand on my shoulder halts me. “Not here,” he murmurs. “Not like this.”
I swallow hard, chin jutting out. “You touched what’s mine,” I whisper, and Alex’s eyes lock on to me.
She trembles so violently she can no longer stand. “I’m sorry,” she stammers. “I didn’t realize—”
“Shut up,” I cut in. “The only reason you’re still breathing is because they got to you first.” I nod toward Livie and the others. “And because Greyson’s right. This isn’t the place.”
I crouch to her level, my voice dropping to a whisper she’ll never forget.
“If you ever come near Xavier again, if you ever speak his name, or even think about him too hard… I will find you. And there won’t be enough left of you to identify.”
Her body goes rigid. She nods frantically.
Greyson stands and addresses her. “Get another job. Another town. If you’re back in Devil Souls territory by the weekend, we’ll take that as an invitation for a more private conversation.”
She scrambles into her car, peels out, and disappears in a cloud of rubber smoke.
Greyson turns to Livie. “You should’ve come to me.”
“This wasn’t club business,” Livie fires back. “It was family business. Woman business.”
“Xavier is under Zach’s protection,” Greyson counters. “That makes it our priority.”
I watch them square off, tension crackling like static.
Finally, I throw back my head and laugh a rough, humorless sound. “Jesus Christ, you women are terrifying. Remind me never to piss any of you off.”
Greyson’s lips twitch. The fight drains out of him, and he glances at Tiana. “What exactly were you planning if we hadn’t shown up?”
“Exactly what we did,” Tiana replies, shoulders back. “Deliver a message she wouldn’t forget.”
Greyson raises an eyebrow. “And if she’d called the cops?”
Meadow steps forward. “Not after what she did to Xavier. Her word against his, with her record of homophobic comments? She knows she’d lose.”
I nod slowly. Respect for these women warms my chest. I pull out my phone and check the time. “Xavier’s waiting for me. He can’t know about this. Not yet.”
“He won’t hear it from us,” Tiana promises. “As far as we’re concerned, this never happened.”
I hesitate, then wrap Tiana in a one-armed hug so tight she squeaks. “Thank you,” I murmur into her hair. “For having his back.”
* * *
Xavier
I had to swing by my apartment to grab some extra clothes since we’re all still camped out at the clubhouse. The bulletproof vest Zach insists I wear chafes slightly against my skin as I climb into Demon’s truck, the weight of it a constant reminder of the danger that hasn’t fully passed.