Page 117 of Mission Shift

She shuddered as the air hit like a frosty wave. I quickly tugged the door shut, then set the bowl down on a metal shelf. “Well,” I said, eyeing space, “at least the cold will slow the bleeding.”

Daria gave me a look that could kill.

Nik’s voice crackled in my ear. “You’ve got maybe five minutes before someone starts asking the kitchen staff questions. Get it done.”

I flexed my hands and met Daria’s annoyed stare.

“Let’s cut that thing out of you.”

I yanked the napkins off the bowl. The second I saw what was inside, my brain flipped a switch. This was my battlefield now. My compelling instinct to provide the best medical care kicked up a notch.

I exhaled a steaming breath through my nose, looking like a dragon, already going through the steps in my head. I’d worked with less and in worse conditions. This? This I could do.

“All right, Nik. I’ve got a boning knife—sharp as hell,” I muttered, testing it against my arm. A few hairs were sliced clean off. “Box of razor blades. Tweezers. Superglue. Kitchen twine.” I grabbed an ice block from a shelf. “And plenty of ice to help numb the area.”

Daria snorted. “Not worried about the pain, Boy Scout. Just get the damn thing out so we can go.”

Her bravado didn’t fool me, but we were out of options, so there was no need to discuss it.

“When I make the incision, you can’t move,” I warned, setting a heavy box of frozen beef next to her on the shelf. “Brace yourself against this. Grip the edges and don’t flinch. If I nick the capsule, you’re dead.”

I wrapped a block of ice in one of the cloth napkins and pressed it over her arm, right above the triceps where the bastard had implanted the device. She tensed, a small tremor rippling down her spine, but she didn’t make a sound. “Hold this here.”

While the ice numbed her, I poured half a bottle of vodka into the metal bowl and dropped the blades, knife, and tweezers in to sterilize them. Then I splashed more vodka onto my hands.

Nik’s voice hissed in my ear. “Shit’s moving fast. More of Malinov’s men are starting to search.”

My hands moved quicker. “Buy us time.”

“Working on it. Magnus is about to start adrunkenbrawl, using a very willing Katya as bait to get the men up in arms.”

I barely registered what he was saying, so focused was I on the task ahead of me.

“Let’s do this, Daria.”

She placed the napkin-wrapped ice on a shelf and stepped up without hesitation, hugging the box of beef and wrapping her fingers around the edges while she flexed her forearms. God, she was the toughest woman—no—the toughestpersonI’d ever met.

I poured vodka over her exposed skin as my focus narrowed in on the incision site. The skin was taut, the muscles coiled beneath the surface. Next, I placed a few napkins under her arm to absorb the blood.

“Daria, brace yourself.”

She blew out a quick breath. “Do it.”

I picked up a razor blade and set the edge of it against her skin. A slow, precise pull split the surface open. Blood welled instantly, rolling down in thick rivulets.

Her knuckles whitened against the box, but she didn’t move.

“Good,” I murmured, grabbing the boning knife and angling the narrow tip under the tissue. “Gonna carve around it. Hold your breath and don’t move.”

Daria’s body was rigid, every muscle locked in place.

I worked fast, slicing into the layers of tissue and muscle surrounding where the capsule was anchored in place. Blood ran freely now, pooling at the base of her arm, soaking into the napkins.

A sharp, high-pitched groan escaped her, quiet but brutal, as if it had been torn straight from her soul. It was the kind of sound that made my gut twist like a blade had been buried deep.

My hands stayed steady though, my fingers moving with the precision honed by years of working as a paramedic.

“You’re doing good,” I murmured, carving deeper. “Just a little more.”

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