Page 6 of Hooked On Victor
“Language,” he slurred, blood bubbling with the word.
She exhaled slowly. “Don’t make me punch you unconscious.”
He bared his teeth in what might have been a grin.
She pressed the gauze to his split brow again. Blood soaked through immediately, sticky and hot against her glove. She leaned closer, voice dropping.
“You got a name?”
He exhaled hard, eyelids fluttering. “Victor.”
She looked at the tattoo again.
“Roman,” she said flatly.
He blinked slowly.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Noted.” She peeled the gauze off. It was soaked black. She pitched it aside. “Resident!”
The gangly kid startled.
“Get the thoracic trauma kit. Now.”
“Yes, Dr. Pepper!”
She heard the snickering at the name from one of the new nurses. She didn’t even glance at them. She just kept one gloved hand on Victor’s sternum, feeling the frantic thud of his heart under battered bone.
“Stay with me,” she said again, quieter this time.
His eyes rolled.
“Victor,” she snapped.
He jerked, eyelids cracking.
“That’s it.”
He was breathing faster now, shallow, wheezing.
She felt the sweat start under her arms, the humid thickness under the plastic gown sticking to her back.
“Pressure’s dropping!” one of the nurses shouted.
“I can see that.” She glanced at the monitor. Numbers red and screaming.
She turned back to Victor and grabbed his jaw again. Blood smeared across her glove and his face.
“Listen to me. I don’t care what you did or who you are. But you’re not dying on my fucking table.”
He blinked, the movement sluggish.
“Don’t… make… promises,” he rasped.
She didn’t answer.
Instead she dug her thumb into the hollow under his jaw, pressing the carotid gently, feeling the fluttering, thready pulse.
