Chapter 4 - Blood and Cedar
The private suite was in chaos.
Victor was laid out across the leather sofa near his fireplace. His shirt had been ripped open, exposing his broad, muscular chest, now stained with thick red blood. A deep gunshot wound gaped near his lower ribs.
"Dr. Vance is blocked by the snowstorm!" Marco swore violently, slamming his fist against the wall. "His car slid off the road two miles from the gate! It'll take him an hour to walk through the blizzard!"
"He'll bleed to death before then!" Mrs. Gable cried, her hands trembling as she held a towel over Victor's side.
Victor gritted his teeth, a low groan escaping his lips as he squeezed his eyes shut. Sweating heavily, he looked like a fallen titan, helpless against the tide of blood leaking from his body.
Chloe pushed her way through the guards and dropped to her knees beside the sofa.
"Let me look," she demanded, her voice surprisingly firm.
"Get out of the way, girl!" Marco growled, reaching to pull her back.
"My mother was a surgical nurse!" Chloe snapped, glaring up at Marco with fierce determination. "I helped her in the community clinic for four years before she died! If you don't pressure that artery and clean the wound right now, he'll go into hypovolemic shock!"
Marco stopped, stunned by the sheer authority in the small maid's voice. He looked down at Victor.
Victor opened his dark eyes slightly, looking at Chloe through a haze of pain. "Let... her," he grunted out, blood flecking his lips.
"Bring me hot water, clean towels, rubbing alcohol, needles, and heavy silk thread from the medical kit in the study!" Chloe commanded, tearing off her apron and rolling up her sleeves.
Mrs. Gable ran to obey.
Chloe pressed both hands firmly over the white towel on Victor's side, applying all her weight to stop the arterial bleeding. Victor winced, his large hand snapping out to grip Chloe's wrist with crushing force. His knuckles were white, his grip like iron.
"Look at me, Mr. Russo," Chloe whispered, leaning close so only he could hear her above the noise in the room. "Look at me. Don't look at the blood."
Victor focused his gaze on her brown eyes. Despite the searing agony tearing through his side, he found himself anchoring his consciousness to her soft, determined face.
"You're... bossy, Bennett," Victor rasped out, a faint, strained ghost of a smile touching his blood-stained lips.
"You can fire me after I save your life," she replied, her eyes bright with focus.
Mrs. Gable returned with a silver tray laden with medical supplies. Chloe didn't hesitate. With practiced, quick hands, she poured alcohol over her fingers, cleansed the deep wound, and sanitized a curved surgical needle.
"This is going to hurt," she warned softly. "I don't have anesthesia."
"Just do it," Victor growled, biting down on his jaw.
Chloe took a deep breath and began stitching the torn tissue.
Every time the needle pierced his skin, Victor’s grip on her wrist tightened until it felt like her bones would snap, but she didn't flinch. She kept her hands steady, her stitches neat and tight, sealing the bullet track to stop the hemorrhage.
Sweat poured from Victor's forehead, his breathing ragged and shallow.
"Almost done," Chloe murmured gently, wiping the sweat from his brow with a cold cloth between stitches. "Hold on, Victor. Just a little more."
She used his first name without realizing it.
Victor heard it. It sounded like music in the dark, pain-filled room.
After twenty agonizing minutes, Chloe tied off the final knot and cut the thread. She applied a clean pressure bandage over his side and wrapped his waist tightly with white gauze.
The bleeding had stopped.
Victor lay back against the cushions, exhausted, his chest heaving as the color slowly began to return to his pale face.
Marco stepped forward, looking down at the neat bandages in absolute awe. "I'll be damned. You saved him, kid."
"He needs rest," Chloe said softly, standing up on shaking legs. Her uniform was stained with Victor's blood, her hands sticky and cold. "Keep him warm. If he develops a fever, wipe him down with cold water."
She turned to leave, but a calloused, heavy hand reached out and caught her fingers.
Victor looked up at her, his dark eyes filled with an intense, unreadable fire.
"Stay," Victor rasped softly.
Marco looked at Mrs. Gable. Mrs. Gable looked at Marco. Without a word, the head housekeeper signaled the guards, and everyone quietly exited the suite, closing the heavy oak doors behind them.
Chloe stood beside the sofa, her hand still held tightly in Victor's grip.
"Sit," Victor ordered weakly, gesturing to the space beside him.
Chloe sat on the carpet beside the sofa, resting her arms on the edge of the cushions.
"You're covered in blood," Victor whispered, his thumb lightly stroking the back of her hand.
"It's your blood," she replied quietly, resting her cheek against her forearm, looking at him. "You shouldn't go to midnight meetings at the docks."
"Donati tried to kill me," Victor said, his voice cold. "He thinks he can take Chicago if I'm dead."
"Will you kill him?"
Victor was silent for a long moment, watching the firelight dance across Chloe’s soft features.
"Yes," he said honestly. "I will burn his entire family to the ground."
Most women would have shrunk away in horror from such a declaration. But Chloe only squeezed his hand a little tighter.
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"Then sleep, Victor," she whispered. "So you're strong enough to do what you have to do."
Victor closed his eyes, his grip on her hand never loosening, and for the second time in five years, he fell into a deep, peaceful slumber.
