Chapter 3
BEX - THIS IS THE LINE
I’m halfway through catching up on my backlog of charting when the charge nurse knocks lightly on the break room door.
“There’s someone asking for you,” she says, looking over her shoulder down the hall and then back at me she lowers her voice adding. “She didn’t want to register.”
People who don’t want to register either don’t trust the system… or don’t want someone to know they’re here.
“Name?” I ask.
“She didn’t give one.”
That in itself wasn’t odd, but add in that she came looking specifically for me. I took a deep breath and tried to smooth my crinkled scrubs and follow her down the back hall instead of through the main ER entrance. Fluorescent lights hum overhead.
I try to school my reaction when I walk into exam room three and see someone I definitely didn’t expect.
Mara Calder doesn’t look like the club princess today, her dark hair is pulled into a low knot and she isn’t wearing any makeup.
My eyes trail over the long sleeve shirt she is wearing despite the heat.
Her posture is perfect, chin up, shoulders squared, but her fingers are twisted tight in the hem of her shirt.
“Hi,” I say gently, closing the door behind me.
“I don’t want this logged,” she says immediately, her voice is calm but her eyes have a frantic edge to them.
“It won’t be,” I tell her. “We’ll keep this out of the system if that is what you need.”
She nods once, her eyes going to the floor.
“What happened?” I ask already knowing I likely won’t get the truth.
“I fell.” Her answer is automatic, comes too fast.
I step closer seeing swelling just under her cheekbone and faint discolouration near the edge of her jaw. Her wrist looks inflamed.
“Mara?” I say her name quietly so anyone outside the room won’t hear, but there's a question to it.
She looks at me then and she looks exhausted.
“It was an argument,” she says quietly. “He lost his temper.”
He.
We both know who that is.
Razor.
“It was my fault,” she adds. “I… I caught him with Kori and was upset.”
I guided her to the exam table and checked her wrist first. It’s sprained, not broken. But the bruising on her face is recent.
“He… he reminded me that it’s his right as a brother to be with the club girls… that’s what they are there for.”
His right… like cheating is ok as long as it’s with a girl who is passed around the club and called culture. I swallow my response and try to keep my face neutral.
“Does your brother know you’re here?” I ask.
Her eyes sharpen. “No.”
I need to know if this goes beyond Razor, if the club president knows that his sister is being abused under his roof.
“Does he know about this?” I ask.
She holds her breath, and the silence is my answer. Mara swallows hard and says, “I don’t want him involved, he's already so stressed and with everything else going on… It’ll escalate things.”
I try again because Razor is a live wire and if he is comfortable doing this… “Mara?”
She interrupts me with a pleading look in her eyes, “Things are already strained, Gabe is so stressed. I can’t add to that. I…. it’ll be fine.”
Her brother is the Club President of the Dawnbreakers and Angel would most definitely snap if he knew what was happening to his sister.
I hate this, but if I push or do something without her consent then I may be taking away her one safe space… I need to listen to her.
“Okay,” I say carefully. “We’ll keep this between us.”
She nods again, relief flickering across her features for just a second.
“And I… I need to ask you something else.”
Her voice drops lower, so I pull the stool closer.
“Razor doesn’t want me taking the pill anymore,” she says, staring at the floor. “He says it messes with my hormones. Says it makes me distant.”
My stomach tightens.
“I don’t want to get pregnant,” she whispers. “Not right now.”
Not like this.
“He checks my prescriptions,” she adds, barely audible. “Counts the days.”
Fuck.
Control doesn’t always start with fists.
“Are there other options?” she asks. “Something he wouldn’t see?”
I keep my tone even. “There’s the shot you could get, it lasts three months. Or there’s an implant, an IUD.”
She nods slowly. “Something long-term.”
“You’d need to come back for placement,” I say. “And we’d still need to chart it somewhere.”
Her shoulders stiffen and I know she doesn’t want anything on paper or anything the club could trace. Does that mean that Razor is tracking more than just her medication? And who does he have? I can’t imagine Cypher doing that for him, keeping that from Angel.
I finish wrapping her wrist, carefully.
“There’s another option,” I say, lowering my voice slightly. “There’s a trauma clinic not far from here. Two women run it and they specialize in situations that… require discretion.”
Her eyes flick up, fear mingled with hope.
“They won’t ask questions you’re not ready to answer,” I add. “And they won’t report back to anyone.”
Mara studies my face like she’s trying to decide whether this is betrayal or salvation.
“I can’t let him know,” she whispers.
“I know.”
I excuse myself under the pretence of grabbing supplies. The hallway outside the exam room is quiet, while a code echoes faintly somewhere distant.
I slip into the supply closet, my heart is beating faster than it should be.
This is the line.
This is where I choose Mara over the club, over Clutch. Because I won’t betray her, they’ve done that enough.
I grab a sterile pack to make it look legitimate, then detour through to the locker room where I know the nurses keep a small stack of business cards there for cases just like this.
Remi Carter.
I haven’t met her personally, but I've heard about the clinic through a colleague. They offer trauma counselling and confidential intake. No affiliation with law enforcement unless requested.
I take one and when I step back into the hallway, I glance through the narrow window near the side exit and my breath hitches.
Razor’s bike is parked across the street.
He’s sitting on it lazily like he didn't just send Mara to the emergency room.
The engine is off, his arms folded over the handlebars as he watched the entrance to the hospital.
He doesn’t look up, but something in my gut says he already knows she’s inside. Does he know she came looking for me?
I return to the exam room and close the door softly.
“He’s outside,” I say carefully.
Mara’s jaw tightens as she blinks back tears. “I didn’t think he would show up. I figured he’d be out for a while still.”
I move closer and press the card into her palm while I adjust the wrap on her wrist.
“If you don’t want to talk to me,” I murmur, “or your brother… call her.”
Mara looks down at the card, her hand trembles slightly.
“She can help,” I offer. “Even if you’re not ready to leave. She can help you understand your options.”
Mara nods once. It's a small, almost imperceptible nod. But I see it.
She tucks the card into her sleeve instead of her purse.
When she leaves through the side exit, I wait thirty seconds before following. Razor is still on his bike, he doesn’t look at me. He is focused on her, and when Mara approaches him, he reaches out and grips her wrist.
The one I just wrapped.
She doesn’t flinch.
That’s what chills me.
She doesn’t react to the pain I know he is inflicting.
He says something I can’t hear and she nods, then they ride off together like it's just another day.
And I stand there in hospital scrubs under the morning sun, realizing I may have just stepped into something bigger than a sprained wrist and bruised cheek.