Page 55 of Captive Prize

“Something to help her blood clot, and to make sure those clots don’t just dissolve.“

He spent the next several minutes checking her over and every single second he didn’t say something, my heart beat faster in my chest, and my stomach shrank.

Until finally, the man turned to me with a flat, unattached look.

“The IV is taking well, and the TXA will force her blood to clot for a period of time.” He cleared his throat and looked at the floor, then up at the ceiling, then to a spot over my left shoulder. “Even if there is another unforeseeable… injury… over the next twenty-four hours, she won’t bleed like she did before.”

My stomach turned.

Of course, any doctor willing to be at the beck and call of a mafia family would be familiar with the types of injuries my cousins usually caused.

He would know not to pass judgment, and he would know not to ask questions.

Despite the fact that we worked endlessly to make sure that we were better than our fathers and our grandfather, the Ivanovs had a reputation.

Regardless, I didn’t like the accusation this doctor was letting linger in the air.

He assumed I had intentionally done this to her.

Like I would bash a woman in the head as if she was some criminal, some enemy who… kidnapped my cousin and almost killed him.

Ok, she was my enemy, even if it didn’t feel like it.

Still, I didn’t need to resort to beating her to get what I needed.

At least, not in a way that didn’t make her tight little virgin cunt needy.

And for him to not even be concerned or bothered about anyone doing further injury to Zoya, actually giving her a drug to prevent her bleeding from getting out of control so I could torture her some more— that was disgusting.

What were my cousins doing out here that a doctor thought we beat women?

“No one hit her,” I said, gritting my teeth and conveniently not counting the spanking I had given her earlier. “It was anaccident. Why was she bleeding so much? When will she wake up?”

“I’m not sure how long it’ll take for her to regain consciousness. I’d say an hour, maybe two. The medication shouldn’t make her groggy, she just needs to replenish her bodily fluids. As far as I can tell without tests, I would assume she has a bleeding disorder, something like Von Willebrand disease.”

A warrior with a fatal flaw.

And I’d nearly exploited it without even knowing.

I should have treated it as an advantage—used it, like any good soldier would.

But instead, something primitive and wrong curled inside my chest.

A savage, unshakable instinct to protect her.

No more accidents.

Not because she was valuable.

Not because she had answers.

But because she was mine.

It was betrayal in its purest form—this need to keep her breathing, to keep her safe.

My loyalty was supposed to be to my people. To Pavel. To the family.

Not to the woman who tried to burn it all down.

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