Page 39 of Fury
"Easy," Greyson growls, eyes flashing dangerously. "You're hurting her."
"I need to assess the damage," Dr. Bowling says calmly, though I notice a slight tremor in his voice. "Strangulation injuries can be serious, potentially life-threatening even days after the incident."
Greyson doesn't release his grip. "Then find a way to check her over that doesn't cause her more pain."
The tension crackles between them, Greyson's rage filling the room like a physical presence. Dr. Bowling seems to shrink under his glare, but to his credit, he doesn't back down completely.
"Mr. Reed," he says carefully, "I understand your concern, but I can't properly examine her if you're going to intervene every time she shows discomfort."
"It's okay," I say quickly, placing my hand on Greyson's arm. "He needs to check, Greyson. I can handle it."
Greyson's jaw works as he reluctantly releases the doctor's wrist. "Fine. But be gentle."
Dr. Bowling nods, adjusting his glasses with slightly shaky fingers. "Of course. Ms. Bennett, I'm going to palpate your throat again, but more gently this time. Please tell me immediately if anything feels particularly painful."
I nod, bracing myself. Greyson moves to sit beside me, his hand finding mine and squeezing reassuringly.
The examination continues, with Dr. Bowling carefully checking my throat, ribs, and the various cuts and bruises covering my body. Each time I wince or make the slightest sound of discomfort, Greyson tenses beside me, his expression darkening to something that makes the doctor work even more carefully.
"Your larynx seems intact, though bruised," Dr. Bowling says, stepping back and reaching for his bag. "The hoarseness in your voice should improve over the next few days. I'm more concerned about the ribs on your left side, there's significant bruising and swelling consistent with at least one hairline fracture."
"She needs X-rays," Greyson states flatly, not a question but a demand.
"Ideally, yes," Dr. Bowling agrees, pulling out a prescription pad. "But given her overall condition and the nature of the injury, I'm comfortable treating it as a fracture without confirmation. Rest, ice, anti-inflammatories." He scribbles something on the pad. "I'm prescribing a mild painkiller as well, nothing too strong."
As the doctor continues his examination, moving to the cut on my forehead, his fingers press slightly too hard against the tender skin. I can't help the sharp intake of breath, my eyes watering involuntarily.
Greyson is on his feet, looming over the doctor with barely contained fury. "That's enough," he snarls, physically inserting himself between us. "You're done."
"Mr. Reed, I still need to?—"
"I said you're done." Greyson's voice drops to a dangerous tone that raises goosebumps on my arms. "Give me the prescriptions and get out."
Dr. Bowling looks like he might argue for a moment, then thinks better of it. He tears off the prescription slips and hands them to Greyson with remarkable steadiness given the circumstances.
"She needs rest," he advises, packing his bag with quick, efficient movements. "The rib should heal in four to six weeks, but she needs to be careful not to aggravate it. No strenuous activity." His eyes flick between us meaningfully. "Of any kind."
Greyson's expression doesn't change, but a muscle jumps in his jaw. "Anything else?"
"Watch for signs of concussion—dizziness, nausea, sensitivity to light. And if her breathing becomes labored or painful, take her to the ER immediately." Dr. Bowling snaps his bag closed. "I'll see myself out."
The moment the front door closes behind him, Greyson turns and kneels in front of me.
"You okay?" he asks, his hands hovering over me as if afraid to touch me now.
"I'm fine," I assure him, though the throbbing in my ribs suggests otherwise. "You didn't have to scare him like that. He was just doing his job."
"His job doesn't include hurting you," Greyson mutters, still visibly agitated. "The club pays him well enough that he should know better."
I can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips. "My hero," I tease gently, trying to lighten his mood. "Defending me from the big, bad doctor."
He doesn't return my smile, his eyes dark with something that looks like guilt. "I should have been there sooner yesterday. Should have protected you better."
"Hey," I say, reaching out to cup his face. "You came for me. You found me. That's what matters."
He turns his face to press a kiss to my palm. "I'll always find you, Livie. Always."
The fierce certainty in his voice wraps around me like a blanket, warm and secure. For all his intimidating presence, all the danger he radiates when provoked, there's something profoundly comforting about knowing Greyson Reed has claimed me as his to protect.
