57. -56-
Dorian
Days passed in a blur. After the argument with Jessica, who refused to let me work, and the rough exchange with my mother, who left Malin’s side for only a few hours to shower and change, I decided to finally rest in my own bed.
But not even Nina’s presence and a comfortable mattress were enough to drag me out of my misery.
I was restless. The demon went crazy in my head, only shutting up when Nina was close.
Yet whenever she left my side, he returned with a vengeance.
It took every ounce of self-control not to punch holes in the wall or pick fights with strangers.
So when Zyon called in the middle of the night, saying he couldn’t sleep and suggesting a sparring session, I ran to our private gym like someone was chasing me.
“You’re out of shape,” Zyon mocked, poking my feet as I lay on the ground in the ring with a dizzy head and a bleeding nose. “You should start training more. A young wife is a demanding luxury.”
“A newborn is, too.” I grinned at him, a pleasant buzzing in my muscles successfully distracting me from a dreadful reality.
“That’s why I’m training twice as hard as before.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Valeria has insane cravings. I drove to buy lemon-filled donuts in Brooklyn the other night.”
“Why didn’t you jog there?” I asked, laughing when he shot me an “are you serious” look.
I propped up on my elbows, watching the happiness reflect on his face despite Malin’s situation. Zyon had dreamed about having kids since he was a teenager and had his first girlfriend.
A familiar sadness squeezed my chest at the thought of a baby. I immediately locked it away, focusing on him.
“When are you going to tell people about the pregnancy?” I stretched my legs, noticing a dark bruise on my thigh.
“We have the first check-up in a few days,” he answered, tossing me a bottle of water.
I caught it and poured half of it over my head.
“But I don’t want to tell anyone except family.
If something goes wrong, Valeria will become an even more valuable target than she already is.
” He exhaled heavily, shaking off the gloves, his eyes catching a murderous shine.
“If someone touches a single hair on her head, they won’t live long enough to regret it. ”
“That’s so romantic,” I sighed, my thoughts instantly jumping to my wife, who shared the same unhinged energy as my possessive brother.
“It won’t be romantic when you have to clean up the bodies,” he snorted into the towel as he wiped his sweaty face. I chuckled, too, dragging my heavy body up to my feet.
“It also won’t be any fun,” I mumbled, a memory attacking me unexpectedly. “Last time I buried a body with Malin, he fell into the grave.” Zyon cast me an incredulous look. “He tripped over his helmet and fell on top of the corpse. I laughed so hard I almost collapsed on them.”
“It was always dangerous to leave you two unsupervised.” Zyon snickered, staring at my bloody nose. “Are you okay? Need a hug or something?”
“Naaaah.” I waved my hand nonchalantly, ignoring the angry demon snarling in my head.
The idiot demanded another round, but I couldn’t beat Zyon even with an arm tied behind his back.
It was more than ten years since the last title, and he was still the true champion.
Precise, ruthless, and unforgiving. Every hit was more brutal than the one before.
Every mistake could end in KO. He was incredible.
“Great, your copying mechanism improved.” He winked at me, sitting on the bench. “Anyway,” he said as he started untying his shoelaces, “I could use some help now when Malin…” He trailed off, lifting his gaze from his sneakers. “If you want some distraction.”
“He’ll wake up,” I claimed with certainty. “You know he will.”
“I do.” Zyon nodded without hesitation. “But the recovery process will be long. I need help now.”
I plopped on the bench opposite him, the familiar excitement poisoning my bloodstream.
Only I and the demon knew how much I missed working with my brothers.
Tedious meetings, late-night emergency phone calls, and even disposing of bodies were better than the paperwork in the hospital.
I loved my job. I adored every second of being the surgeon again, but the files and endless bureaucracy were killing me.
“Help with what?” I asked carefully because the last thing I wanted was to schedule security shifts.
“With Malin,” Zyon started, checking the notifications on his phone, “we decided to open an off-books medical facility. He already signed the contract and wired money through the shell companies to buy equipment and whatever else was necessary.”
“What?” My brows shot up so high they almost met my hairline. “I’m the doctor who owns the biggest hospital in fucking New York City. What else do you want?”
“You can’t be in two places at once,” he said, handing me a T-shirt from the hanger. “And we need a place where our people can hide. In your hospital, they are reported to the authorities. We talked about this years ago.”
“Yes,” I confirmed, recalling a huge argument with our father, who refused to fund the idea because it was too dangerous and would attract unwanted attention.
“And Dad was right. It can cause tremendous trouble. You don’t have the personnel, enough equipment, and, more importantly, a license.
Also, do you have any idea how much medical care costs?
Mom’s fundraiser barely provides money for my patients. ”
“Money isn’t the problem,” Zyon claimed confidently. “Only the people who have it will be treated. And also, our boys who balance the lines between right and wrong daily. We have a plan.”
“Oh, do you?” I lifted a challenging brow. “So, when a woman who doesn’t have money for the treatment in a regular hospital comes with a sick kid, and the child will die without help, you will personally send them away?”
Zyon’s teeth clashed together as he flashed me a glare.
“Or imagine a pregnant woman,” I continued, knowing exactly which buttons to push. “Homeless immigrant. She doesn’t even have clean clothes. Will you push her outside into the cold weather after her water broke?”
“Dorian,” Zyon snarled, but I was like a speeding train. His warning couldn’t stop me.
“You have no idea what it is to serve among the poor,” I said, grasping his shoulder and turning him to face me because he turned away.
“I spent months in Africa, without proper food, clean water, or shelter. I slept under a tent with holes bigger than my fists. You have no idea about that world, Zyon.” I gulped the memories down because they were too painful to talk about.
“You can’t build a facility for the mafia in Manhattan.
You need a dirty neighborhood, streets full of low-key criminals, drug dealers, and hookers who will cover for you, and in return, you will have to treat them, too.
” I shrugged, letting go of him. “I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but it is what it is.
And don’t forget that no sane doctor will work there. ”
“They will be royally paid,” he objected, but I just shook my head.
“In exchange for risking their careers, reputation, or families?” I smiled sadly. “I don’t think so.”
Zyon stared at me for a long moment, as if he refused to understand the reality. The idea was good because, yes, I couldn’t treat anyone. When a doctor was needed, it would be great to have someone on call who would help. But for a secret mafia facility, they would need a whole team.
“We can make it work,” Zyon cut the thin thread of my thoughts, erasing the distance between us. “Imagine having a place like that when I was shot. Wouldn’t it have helped the situation?”
“I’m not saying it won’t help,” I sighed exasperatedly. “But it’s too risky.”
“Riskier than dying?” he countered. “Or getting investigated because you’re shooting with unregistered guns in the middle of the street?”
“You’re mixing two different things,” I opposed, trying to make him understand my point. Still, when Zyon wanted something, and he clearly wanted this, he stopped at nothing to get it.
“Just give it a second thought.” He shrugged, taking his backpack. “You can still walk away if you don’t like it.”
“Yeah, because it’s that easy,” I mumbled, following him outside the gym. “Is that all you need help with?” I asked, hoping he had some chase on hold. I’d kill for a good hunt.
“For now,” he replied, throwing his stuff onto the passenger seat of his precious Maserati. “I’ll keep you updated. See you at the hospital?”
“Yes,” I confirmed. “I’ll take a shower and switch with Mom. Say hi to Valeria for me.”
“Will do.” He waved at me and sat behind the steering wheel.
I stared at the back of his car until the lights disappeared in the distance, the idea of the secret medical facility eating at my brain.
Imagine the adrenaline, the demon said, grinning at me. We love the pressure.
“Yeah, until someone dies, right?” I snapped at him as another memory resurfaced. Glassy green eyes glanced at me hopefully before the anesthesia put them down. And they never opened again.
The demon shut his idiotic mouth. This topic was traumatic for him, too. Because it wasn’t a mistake, lack of equipment, or personnel. There was nothing more to do than what we’d already done. We couldn’t save anyone, and that night hurt so fucking much.
Shaking off the unpleasant memories with a wild drive through the city, I came home just in time for breakfast. However, my beautiful wife sat on the couch with a laptop on her thighs and a cup of coffee in her hand, glaring at something on the screen.
“Good morning,” I greeted, placing my phone and keys on the chest of drawers.
“Morning,” Nina replied mindlessly, her frown deepening.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, plopping on the couch beside her. The gentle aroma of her peach-scented shower gel tingled my nostrils.