Chapter 7
We scrambled down the fire escape into the pouring rain just as boots kicked open the apartment door above us. Gunshots shattered the metal railing near my head, sparking against the wet iron.
Julian pulled me behind a brick dumpster, fired two suppressing rounds toward the roof, and dragged me down the narrow alleyway into an underground subway station.
By 4:30 AM, we were hiding inside an abandoned staff locker room in Mount Sinai’s sub-basement. I had used my master employee keycard to bypass the external perimeter sensors.
Steam pipes hissed in the shadows. The air was thick with the scent of damp concrete and ozone. Julian sat on a rusted bench, his shirt off, revealing broad shoulders marred by dark bruising and a deep laceration along his ribcage from the alley fight.
"Sit still," I commanded, opening a stolen suture kit from the trauma supply closet.
"I'm fine, Mia—"
"You're bleeding into your trousers, Julian," I said, my professional nurse persona taking over to mask the fluttering in my stomach. "Hold your breath."
I cleaned the wound with iodine. Julian hissed through his teeth, his hand shooting out and gripping my thigh to brace himself. His touch was scorching against my scrub pants. Every nerve ending in my body flared to life.
"You're remarkably calm for someone who had a gun pointed at her face an hour ago," he murmured, his eyes fixed on my lips as I carefully placed the first stitch.
"I work in trauma," I answered, trying to keep my voice steady as I pulled the nylon thread tight. "Panicking doesn't keep patients alive. Focus does."
"Is that why you asked me for a hug on 5th Avenue?" he asked softly.
My fingers hesitated on the needle driver. I looked up. His eyes were dark, fathomless, filled with a warmth that felt dangerously out of place in a damp hospital basement.
"I was drowning," I admitted honestly. "And you anchored me."
Julian reached up with his free hand, his fingertips tracing the curve of my jawline, tilting my face toward his. "You anchored me too, Mia. For the last six months, I felt like the only sane person in a family of monsters. When you looked at me on that sidewalk... you didn't see Julian Vance, the billionaire heir. You just saw a man."
The distance between us vanished.
When his lips touched mine, the tension of the last twelve hours exploded into pure heat. It wasn't gentle; it was desperate, fierce, and breathless. I dropped the forceps, my hands threading through his damp hair, pulling him closer as he lifted me onto the steel work table. His mouth tasted of rain and adrenaline. Every rule I had ever followed as a nurse, every wall I had built around my heart, dissolved in the span of a single heartbeat.
A sudden vibration broke the silence.
Julian pulled back, his breathing ragged, his forehead resting against mine. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his encrypted phone.
An alert flashed on the screen:
*ICU ROOM 402: LIFE SUPPORT DISCONNECTED.*
May you like
Sophia.
***
