“Denny, stay with me!” I shouted, pressing my hands hard against the wound on his side. Warm blood seeped through my fingers, soaking into my scrubs and pooling on the cold concrete of the parking garage floor.
His eyes fluttered open, unfocused. “Calla…” he murmured, barely audible.
“Don’t you dare pass out on me,” I snapped, panic lacing my voice. “You’re not dying here. Not tonight.”
I scanned the area, my mind racing. No hospital equipment, no tools—just me, my hands, and whatever I could find. I tore off my jacket and pressed it against the wound, trying to slow the bleeding.
“You… shouldn’t have come,” he slurred, his voice weak.
“Yeah, well, I’m here,” I said through clenched teeth. “So shut up and let me fix this.”
He gave a weak chuckle that turned into a groan of pain.
I grabbed my phone and turned on the flashlight, inspecting the wound. A stab wound. Deep, but not immediately fatal—if I worked fast.
“Denny, I need you to stay awake, okay?” I said, shaking his shoulder.
His eyelids fluttered again, and I slapped his cheek lightly. “Stay with me!”
My eyes darted around the garage. A first-aid kit. There had to be one. “I’m going to find something to help. Don’t move.”
He let out a weak laugh. “Not… going anywhere.”
I spotted a small maintenance closet tucked in the corner and sprinted to it, yanking the door open. Inside, I found a dusty first-aid kit. Not much, but it was something. I grabbed it and hurried back to him.
“Okay, Denny, this is going to hurt,” I warned as I ripped open a packet of antiseptic wipes.
“Like… it doesn’t already?” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper.
I ignored him and cleaned the wound as best as I could. His body jerked under my hands, and he groaned in pain, but I couldn’t afford to be gentle.
“Bite down on this,” I said, shoving a piece of folded cloth into his mouth.
With trembling hands, I used the kit’s needle and thread to stitch the edges of the wound. It was crude, messy work, but it would hold for now.
“Done,” I said after what felt like an eternity. “You’re stable, but you need a hospital.”
“No,” he croaked, shaking his head weakly. “No hospital.”
“Denny, you’ve lost a lot of blood. You could die!”
He grabbed my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. “I can’t. They’ll find me. Please, Calla… just take me somewhere safe.”
I stared at him, my anger bubbling beneath the surface. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? You drag me into this mess, bleed all over me, and now you won’t even let me do my job?”
“Please,” he whispered, his eyes locking onto mine.
Damn him.
I let out a frustrated sigh. “Fine. My apartment. But if you pass out again, I’m taking you to the hospital whether you like it or not.”
It wasn’t easy getting him into my apartment. By the time I managed to half-carry, half-drag him onto my couch, my arms were trembling from the effort.
“Don’t bleed on the furniture,” I muttered, grabbing a clean towel to place under him.
He smirked faintly. “I’ll… try.”
I sat on the floor next to him, exhausted and furious. “Start talking, Denny. Who did this to you? And why are they after you?”
His head lolled to the side, his expression hazy. “I… work for people. Fix problems.”
“Fix problems?” I repeated, my voice rising. “What the hell does that mean?”
He closed his eyes for a moment, and I thought he was about to pass out again. But then he spoke, his voice low and strained.
“I’m a fixer. I do… jobs. Dangerous ones. Things go wrong sometimes.”
My chest tightened. “And this time, it went wrong, didn’t it?”
He nodded weakly. “I was hired to deliver something. Big money. But I got ambushed. They think I know more than I do.”
“Who’s ‘they,’ Denny?”
He hesitated, his eyes flicking to mine. “If I tell you, it’ll just drag you in deeper.”
I clenched my fists. “I’m already in deep, thanks to you. So spill.”
He exhaled shakily. “It was someone powerful. Someone tied to this hospital.”
My stomach dropped. “What do you mean?”
He hesitated again before whispering, “The person who hired me… it was Robert Carmichael.”
I froze.
Robert Carmichael. One of East Brunswick Medical Hospital’s biggest donors. A man whose name was etched on half the plaques in the building.