Page 36 of Bratva Beast

He pulls the paper down, and I grab the needle. I count Cynric’s ribs as Papa holds the towels against his chest. I reach the space between the second and third rib, in line with the middle of the collarbone and insert the needle. A rush of air escapes, and Cynric takes a big breath.

Papa smiles at me. “You did good.”

“We’re not out of the woods yet.” I look at Saxon. “Are we expecting an ambulance?”

Papa answers. “My dentist should be here any moment.”

“I’m worried about blood loss.”

“So, give him blood.” Papa utters matter-of-factly.

“Sure.” My eyes find Saxon. “What’s your blood type?”

“We’re all O positive. It’s a running joke in the family.”

The unlicensed bratva doctor, known as the dentist, steps into the room. He nods at Papa and bends down to me. “What do you need?”

“I think he needs blood.”

The dentist glances at the amount of the blood on the ground and points to Saxon to sit. He rummages through the bag the soldier dropped at his feet. He pulls out a military blood transfusion field kit. Grabbing gloves, he puts them on as Saxon removes his shirt. In moments, he’s set up a transfusion from Saxon to Cynric. He smiles. “I do two of these a week.”

I nod. Who needs Harlem Trauma? Just hang around this guy for experience.

Cynric squeezes my hand. “Are you okay?”

Tears fall down my face. “I’m fine. I need to work on you some more.”

The dentist speaks. “I have morphine.”

I don’t get to answer before he pours a dose in Cynric’s mouth. Cynric grimaces at the bitter taste.

Saxon is leaning against the wall with blood running into the tube from the catheter in his arm. The speed the dentist set thatup was amazing. I lift the material once again satisfied with the slower blood loss.

The dentist offers. “Do you need me to stitch that?”

Thane blurts. “You should do it. You’re a real doctor, she’s just pretending at it.”

I close my eyes and take a breath. Pointing to the exit. “Get out.”

The shock that covers Thane’s face with the gasps from the men around the room should make me pause, but my blood is boiling. I’m struggling to keep it together, and I can’t take anymore from him. “Get the fuck out of here. Now.”

He looks at Papa, and I growl. “Don’t look at him. Look at me. You’re making this harder. Get out.”

The slight movement from Papa’s head emboldens me. I take a breath and bark in my best Russian, telling him if he doesn’t leave, I’m going to remove his nuts. That seems to get his attention, and I pull the knife from my sock, holding the point up. “You’re wasting time.”

Papa chuckles. “Once again, my oldest son knew better.”

I turn to see Papa talking to Cynric. “I told you.” Cynric smiles his cheshire grin.

Papa nods. “You did. She is perfect for you. She never would have worked for the other men: too strong, too capable.” He glares at Thane. “Go. You’re not welcome until Cynric says you may return.”

Hurt slams into his face as Saxon chuckles on the floor. “Mom is spinning in her grave about you, bro. You’ve decided you don’t trust women. She’d be sad.”

He opens his mouth like he’s got the perfect retort, but his father’s cough closes his mouth. He waves his hand. “Don’t let him die.”

Cynric whispers. “We’re not done with this.”

I watch the dentist. A man who frequented my house when I was a child. “He needs an antibiotic.” He reaches into his large black bag with individual pockets and colored bottles and bags. Selecting a small bottle, he hands it to Papa. “This should get him through.” He nods at Papa. “I think you’ve found my replacement, Mikhail.”

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