The Mafia Boss

Ch. 36: I'll put a bullet through your head.

"Reaper!" yells Nathan, desperately trying to locate the man amongst the bustling crowed. "Reaper!"

I run to him.

"What is it?" I ask.

"They're on their way. Ryan has been injured," he reveals. "It's bad."

I pull Nathan out into the hall, sensing his panic. He's just a kid, not much older than eighteen. I silently questioned Reaper's need to put him on monitoring duty but—honestly—looking around, there isn't much option. Everyone else is either injured or missing. Hunter is around, but he doesn't strike me as the type to sit in a chair and await news. He's definitely more "hands on" and no one can deny the work he and Nicole get done together. In the last ten minutes alone, they've managed to treat at least half of the people in need.

"I can't get hold of the doctor," reveals Nathan.

Shit!

"Ryan needs a doctor, Imogen!"

Just then, the front door swings open, revealing two men carrying a bleeding Ryan. Emerging shortly after is Torin carrying a bundle, his jacket covering whatever is underneath. He notices me immediately and his gaze softens, as though relieved to be seeing me.

"Torin!" I rush towards him and place my hand on his arm. "Is he—"

Moisture gathers in his eyes.

"I need to tell his mother," he says.

I gently pull back the jacket, witnessing the most horrific sight.

This poor, poor boy.

"She'll want to see him," I say. "Nathan, clean him up. Put him in one of the spare bedrooms and when you're done, come find me."

He nods and takes the small child from Torin's arms.

"We can't reach the doctor," I inform.

Torin nods. "We'll improvise. Put him in the kitchen."

Two of Torin's solder's carry Ryan into the kitchen, leaving Torin and I alone in the foyer for a moment. He's covered in blood, but I doubt any of it is actually his.

"Are you hurt?" I ask.

He shakes his head.

"Torin—"

"I'm fine."

Like a fog clearing, his expression transforms. Long gone is the haunted look in his eyes I witnessed just moments ago. Instead, I'm met with determination and power.

"We'll stitch him up."

"Okay," I say, following him there. "I need boiling water, alcohol, a needle and some thread."

I direct my demands at one of the men responsible for getting Ryan here. I don't know how he manages it—given how chaotic everything is—but he somehow returns with every item on my list, plus towels.

"Gun shot or stab wound?" I ask, studying the injury by his left hip

"Stab," replies Torin, dousing the needle in vodka.

He splashes some on Ryan's flesh and takes a shot for good measure.

"I doubt it's hit any vital organs."

"Let's stitch him up. He's losing a lot of blood."

I grab a wooden spoon from the kitchen draw and position it inside Ryan's mouth. I briefly caress his hair in an as comforting manner as possible and instruct the two men to pin him down. I've sewn plenty of Maeve's clothes and toys in the past, but nothing compares to human flesh. The needle goes in surprisingly well and Ryan—who's in a tremendous amount of pain—doesn't thrash around.