Chapter 69

**Emilia POV**

The car weaves through the dense urban traffic. The city lights blurring past in streaks of neon, illuminating a blanched face Calum. He’s in the backseat, slumped and groaning in pain, his head lolling, his eyes flickering so erratically it’s like they will soon roll behind his head. Blood seeps like a stream, pooling around him, evidence of a recent stab wound, and an old gunshot wound that had torn open. I don’t know what hell he went to, but it’s a miracle he found his way back.

I glance frequently and feverishly at the rearview mirror, catching flashing glimpses of Calum. The last scant sight is his eyelids fluttering closed. I take a sharp turn, entering a side road, veering off the main.

“Stay with me Calum!”

He doesn’t respond.

“Calum!”

I slam my foot on the brake and the jarring stop jolts him half-awake. He inhales a shearing breath like his soul had flitted between the realm of the dead and the land of the living.

“Hang on, we’re almost there,” I say, my voice tense and nowhere near reassuring enough.

I pitch another off-shoulder glance before I resume. His breaths are shallow, and the lurch of the car elicits a pained gasp. I floor the accelerator, ignoring the honking horns and screeching tires as I maneuver through the crowded streets.

“If–If I die—”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Tell Hadassah, our truth is in—in,” he splutters, ejecting a spray of blood from a violent cough,“in her north star.”

“Tell her yourself, you are not dying in my custody, Mr Taylor.”

Within minutes, the car skids to a halt in a narrow alley behind a strip club. The alley is dimly lit, the distant thump of bass from inside the club vibrating through the air. Sarah is already waiting by the back entrance and once the car is in range, parked as close as possible—I leap out. Still dressed in a black lingerie bodysuit with enough lace to only adequately cover her nipples. She hurries into a black gown, shooting her arms through the satiny sleeves as she makes a fast approach in six-inch heels.

“Thanks for this.” I say in a fevered rush.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she says with a scathing, short laugh. “Never mind jeopardizing this two-year long operation. You are risking all of our lives—including your asset’s.”

“I had no other choice!”

I fling the backseat door open to see Calum unconscious. I dive in without thought, but Sarah clutches my arm to reel me back, then flicks a manicured hand at the back door.

“Don’t worry, big black will help out.”

On cue, the backdoor swoops open and a colossal sized bouncer stomps out, black and bald. Each step nearly shakes the concrete slope as he descends the short gradient. I dart out of the way as he goes for Calum, setting his beefy hands on him before he hauls me out effortlessly. Blood stained as he supports his limp body, guiding his heft out before he carries him toward a nondescript door. We follow in tow and the moment we enter, we’re bombarded by the boom of the pulsating music—darkness scarred by bursts of lights. Music married to the uproar of horny men cheering on exotic performers. We tread through the back, our movement winding along the rims.

The bouncer leads us to a room cluttered with storage boxes and club paraphernalia. A makeshift medical area has been set up on a sturdy table covered with a clean sheet. He lays Calum down on the table, Sarah strips off the gown to put on a protection layer over her half-naked self, then a mask.

“Baby, can you get me one of those?”

The bouncer grunts and turns to reveal an array of medical supplies on a steel trolly. He pushes it closer to her, and she puts on gloves then grabs antiseptic wipes and gauze.

“You’re awfully well-prepared.”

“If you knew who owned this establishment. You wouldn’t be surprised.”

Sarah approaches him with a calm and methodical demeanor. My eyes stray to the makeshift medical area other than trolly, equipped with more antiseptic solutions, gauze, sutures, and various medical instruments.

Sarah uses a pair of scissors to cut and cut away his shirt. His tainted jacket and laptop are still in the backseat of my car. Sarah uses antiseptic wipes to clean the area around the stab wound, ensuring the removal of any dirt or bacteria to prevent infection.
She carefully examines the wound to assess its depth and severity.

“I don’t see any damage to underlying tissues or organs.” Her fierce eyes fly up to stab me with a sharp look. “I can’t say because I’m not a doctor.”

“You know you can handle this,” I say with a cheeky squint of my eyes. “I’ve seen you deal with worse at—” my eyes dart to the bouncer, “—your ex’s place.”

Sarah uses a syringe filled with sterile saline solution to irrigate the wound thoroughly, flushing out any debris and minimizing the risk of infection.Using a needle holder and forceps, she began suturing the wound. Each stitch involves inserting the needle through the skin, starting from one side of the wound, passing through the subcutaneous tissue, and emerging on the opposite side. I’m glad he’s not conscious to feel any of this. Once the wound is closed, Sarah applies a sterile gauze dressing and secures it with medical tape.

She moves on swiftly to the old gunshot wound. She repeats the same sterilization process, then gently cuts and removes any remaining old sutures that are still embedded in the tissue, being careful not to cause further trauma to the area. Re-suturing follows debridement, suturing to close the wound, ensuring each stitch is placed with precision to bring the wound edges together without excessive tension. She concludes by putting on a sterile dressing.

“I need to clean up this crime scene.” She plucks the gloves off furiously. “I’ll clean this up. You two set him up in one of the rooms. I’ll join you shortly.”

The bouncer scoops up a shirtless Calum and makes his way out. I follow him out and we soon reach exposure at a juncture of the corridor. Two strippers strut by, completely oblivious to us slipping out of the shadows. The bouncer walks straight across and checks two closed doors, passing them because they’re occupied and settles for the third one. I nearly balk in the doorway. By the ropes dangling from above, the coil of chains and a tall structure like a giant dart board that can hold a person pinned against its surface stands on the flank. A sex dungeon. Other than the bed, there are contraptions, a bridle, leather objects and toys I don’t care to distinguish. The bouncer sets him down on the bed and moves away.

“Thank you…big—b—big man,” I say, awkwardly clearing my throat with a pat on my chest.

He looks back at me blankly and bobs a lazy nod.

“How long have you been working here for?”

He shakes his head in reproach. “We’re not about to do that. I’ve worked here long because I stand on one rule. Stay in your damn lane. I’m not in anyone’s business, so I expect no one to be in mine. Whatever this is—that’s on you and Sarah. She helped me out once and I owe her this favor. She’s good people.”

I nod quickly. “Something we agree on.”

Something happens and his expression shifts into stoicism. He becomes still like a sentinel on duty, and he fixes a focused stare ahead of him with his hands clasped in front of him. I supposed that means that’s all the small talk I’ll get from him. I turn my attention on Calum and I meander around to be on the side of the bed. With tentative fingers, I drag the crimson silk sheet under him to drape it over his form. I straighten back up to stare at the scarlet eye-sore that is this room with furry, velvet embellishments, everything dark and sensual, the ambient lighting and the amorous ambience kindles a spark of arousal—regardless of the freakish tools and toys inside.

In due course, Sarah returns and releases the bouncer with a smile and an affectionate hand on his chest that slides up before she delivers a sweet kiss to the nape of his neck. And he leaves with not so much as a second glance back. Sarah faces me with an anger that extinguishes any trace of tenderness as she jabs a finger at me accusingly.

“Ju keni një dëshirë për vdekje.” *You have a death wish*. The full rush of her rough accent comes through, unpeeling her pronunciation to leave behind something raw. Emotions ablaze. “This is why people on operations never want to work with you. You take big risks.”

“Big risks that give bigger rewards.”

She gives me an insolent look, clicks her tongue and crosses her arms. “No wonder you’re obsessed with Hadassah Moor. You two think alike. But look at where that's gotten her.”

“I never told you her name.”

“No, but you told me his,” she says, jerking her chin at a sleeping Calum. “And he is flagged. Associated with Hadassah. And anyone with a criminal record, knows who she is. Especially now. Especially after Gaza put that bounty on her head. Now he’s dead. And Santos wants her and him, too. He’s not safe here. My employer would happily sell him off for a nice price if he learned the golden goose was in his building.”

“You don’t have to worry about us.” I pivot to stroll away thoughtfully. “I will be taking him to a secure location.”

She stops me with a hold on my wrist and I whip around to wrench my hand.

“Protocol required you to report him.”

“I have operational authority over this case. And it's within my discretion to make these types of calls. Not that I need to remind you of my rank.”

She sizes me up and comes nose-to-nose with me. “In your arrogance, you’re risking his life, Commander. You should stop pulling rank and start pulling weight.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“You were leased out by your agency to aid.” She looks around theatrically. “I see no aid. Just comprised assets, powerful crime lords readying for war. And maybe another dead body to add to the staggering sum,” she says, sending Calum a meaningful and malicious glance. “You’re doing such a *wonderful *job.”

Unfazed, I give her a slow and scornful once-over. “Yes, because shaking my ass would make such a better impact. At least when I come face-to-face with criminals, I get to keep my clothes on.”

She lunges with her fist raised.

“I must be dreaming.”

She stops mid-movement and we both gawk back at Calum.

He gazes back at us, smiling blissfully as his eyes sweep over the room. “*I must be dreaming*,” he whispers with breathless excitement. “I got two hot blondes fighting over me.”

Sarah’s face sours and she rips off her wig, unfurling a flourish of dark umber hair.

“*Brunette*,” Calum announces in awe, his eyelids drooping. “Even better.”

I hurry over to him. “Calum, do you remember what happened?”

Visibly pensive, his face contorts, thinking hard. A shadow falls and all goof and gleam is shrouded by a grim gloom. He nods brokenly, and he twitches ever-so-slightly from a tremor of fear flickering through him. His heavy-lidded stare sets on me and a garbled sound escapes him. He winces and nods again, reality reminding him of what he had and what he lost.

“Do you remember what happened?” I repeat gently.

A flash of fear. “It must have been him.” And he says his name as if it holds the dark power to make the heavens fall. “Orian Moon.”