Chapter 1 #3
The squeak of wheels announced Tammy's return before I saw her, the portable X-ray machine rolling through the doorway like a mechanical herald of bad news. Ruka's eyes locked onto it, his entire body going rigid.
"I need to see exactly where that bullet is," I explained, catching his expression. "Going in blind is a good way to turn this from bad to worse."
His gaze flicked from the machine to me, then back to Ardin. After a beat, he nodded once.
Tammy positioned the X-ray arm with the efficiency of someone who'd done this a thousand times. "Everybody back," she ordered, gesturing toward the corner where she'd already set up the portable lead shield. "That means you too, Jordan. Behind the shield."
We retreated behind the shield, though Ruka looked like it physically pained him to put even that small distance between himself and the boy. His whole body thrummed with barely contained energy, a coiled spring waiting to snap.
"This'll only take a second, sweetheart," Tammy said to Ardin, her voice softening. "Just need you to be really still for me, okay?"
The boy's only response was the rapid, shallow rise and fall of his chest.
The machine hummed. Clicked.
"And... there." Tammy was already pulling up the image on the tablet, bringing it over before the sound had fully faded.
I studied the screen and felt something in my chest unclench. The bullet glowed white against the grayscale of bone and tissue, wedged between the third and fourth ribs about two inches deep. Close—God, so close—to the lung, but not breaching it.
"Okay," I breathed. "Okay, this is doable."
Ruka loomed over my shoulder, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him, his scent something like pine and woodsmoke. "That is it?" His voice cracked slightly. "That small thing?"
"Yeah. See here?" I traced the outline with my finger. "It's lodged in the muscle tissue. Missed the lung by maybe half an inch, didn't clip any major vessels. Considering everything, he is incredibly lucky."
"Lucky." The word came out like gravel scraping against stone, bitter and sharp.
I prepped and administered the local anesthetic, my hands moving through the familiar motions while my mind raced ahead to the extraction. Ninety seconds—that's all the time I could spare for it to take effect. Every moment counted.
The forceps felt cool and precise in my palm as I positioned myself over the wound. One breath. Two. Then I began.
The bullet had burrowed in at an angle, nestling itself between ribs like it belonged there. On the X-ray, it looked almost innocuous—a bright spot of metal in a sea of gray. In reality, it was a ticking time bomb of silver and lead.
My first incision was careful, controlled, widening the entry wound just enough to see what I was working with. Ardin's whimper cut through the sterile air, his small frame going rigid despite the numbing agent.
"I know, sweetheart," I murmured, keeping my voice low and steady. "Almost there."
Standing at the head of the gurney, his large hands settled over Ardin's shoulders, Ruka had gone statue-still, every muscle locked tight.
His jaw worked like he was chewing glass.
Those molten-gold eyes never wavered from Ardin's face, but the waves of barely-contained tension rolling off him were palpable.
"Talk to me," I said, probing the wound with the forceps, feeling for that telltale resistance of metal. "How did this happen?"
Silence stretched between us, broken only by the soft beep of monitors and Ardin's labored breathing. I was beginning to think he wouldn't answer when his voice rumbled out, rough as sandpaper.
"He was playing. In the valley below our village."
"Playing?" The forceps made contact—solid, unmistakable. Got you.
"He likes to explore the creek bed, search for smooth stones." Each word sounded like it was being dragged up from somewhere deep and painful. "I heard the shot."
I adjusted my grip, angling the forceps to get purchase on the slick bullet without tearing through more muscle. "You were nearby?"
"Close enough." Clipped. Bitter. "I ran. Found him in the grass, bleeding."
My gaze flicked to the wall clock. 2:17 AM. Something about that nagged at me, a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit.
"Wait," I said, working the forceps deeper with painstaking care. "Do Orc children normally play outside at two in the morning?"
For the first time since he'd crashed through my doors, something shifted in Ruka's expression. The corner of his mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but the ghost of one. Almost human, if humans had tusks.
"Orc children are not like human children," he said, and beneath the gravel I caught a thread of something warmer. Pride, maybe. "We are... nocturnal, by nature."
"Oh." Heat crept up my neck. Of course. How had I not known that? "So he was just out playing at a normal time. For Orcs."
"Yes. The coolest hours, when the sun sleeps." His eyes drifted back to Ardin's pale face. "The safest time. Or so I thought."
The forceps slipped. Damn it. I repositioned, forcing my hands to remain steady even as my pulse hammered. "Did you see who shot him?"
"No. But there have been hunters in the area." He spat the word like poison. "They were reported three days ago, by my war chief, near the treaty line."
I finally managed to lock the forceps around the bullet, feeling it shift in the tissue. Slowly now. Carefully. "You think they shot him on purpose?"
"I don't know." The admission seemed to physically pain him. "The treaty line runs through the valley. Ardin knows not to cross it. But he's only six summers. Children forget."
The bullet came free with a wet, sucking sound that made Tammy grimace beside me.
I dropped it into the metal tray where it landed with a sharp clink—silver.
My stomach twisted. Silver bullets weren't exactly standard issue at your local sporting goods store.
You had to want them. Had to seek them out with purpose.
The wound immediately began bleeding more freely, dark blood welling up fast. I reached for gauze, packing the wound even as my mind raced.
"So he might have crossed the treaty line," I said, applying pressure. "And someone saw an Orc child and just... fired?"
Ruka's massive hands tightened on Ardin's shoulders—not enough to hurt, but enough that I saw the knuckles pale beneath green skin. "Or they saw an Orc child playing and didn't care which side of the line he was on."
The words settled between us like a rock dropping into water, ripples of implication spreading outward. I didn't want to examine them too closely. Not while this child's blood was still warm on my hands.
"Either way," I said, my voice steadier than I felt, "he's going to be okay." I reached for the suture kit, fingers moving with the muscle memory of a thousand similar motions. "The bullet's out. No major damage to organs or arteries. He'll need antibiotics and rest, but he'll heal."
I nodded to Tammy, who was already prepping an IV drip—broad-spectrum antibiotics and a carefully calculated dose of painkillers. We'd have to monitor how his system processed them, but it was better than letting him wake up in agony.
For the first time since Ruka had crashed through those doors, something in his expression shifted. The rigid set of his jaw eased. His shoulders dropped half an inch. Those amber eyes—still fixed on his son—softened at the edges.
"Thank you," he said, and the words sounded like they'd been pulled from somewhere deep in his chest, raw and genuine.
I met his gaze as I threaded the first suture. Those eyes turned to me now, intense and unreadable, catching the fluorescent light like molten gold. Heat crawled up my spine, and I forced myself to look back down at my work before he could see the flush spreading across my cheeks.
"Just doing my job," I managed, focusing on the needle piercing flesh, the familiar rhythm of close and tie, close and tie.
I worked methodically, closing the wound with careful, even stitches.
Most physicians used medical staples, but without knowledge of how those might react with Orc skin, I thought catgut was the best bet.
My hands were steady despite the awareness prickling along my skin—the knowledge that Ruka watched every movement, tracking each pass of the needle through Ardin's flesh.
The boy remained still under the sedation, his breathing deep and even.
"There." I tied off the final suture with a practiced twist, then cleaned the area one more time before reaching for a sterile bandage. My fingers worked gently, smoothing the edges down against Ardin's skin. "All done."
Tammy materialized at my elbow like she always did, fresh gauze and medical tape already in hand.
We moved in synchrony, securing the dressing with the kind of efficiency that came from working together through countless late-night emergencies.
The wrap needed to be snug enough to stay put, but not so tight it would restrict his breathing.
"Can I get you some coffee?" Tammy offered, her voice carefully neutral as she glanced at Ruka. "It might be a while before he wakes up."
Ruka's gaze flicked toward the doorway, where the ancient coffee pot sat on its perpetually scorched burner. His nose wrinkled—just slightly, but enough that I caught it. "No. Thank you."
The look on his face suggested she'd offered him a cup of battery acid. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling as I turned away, busying myself with disposing of the used supplies in the Sharps container.
"We'll let him rest now," I said, peeling off my gloves with a snap. "The painkillers will keep him comfortable for a good while. Someone will check on him every fifteen minutes."
Ruka gave a single nod, already moving to position himself beside the bed. One massive hand settled on the edge of the mattress, hovering near—but not quite touching—Ardin's shoulder. The gesture was so careful, so protective, it made something tighten in my chest.