The second-floor medical wing is no longer obscenely outdated. What used to be a maze of peeling paint and yellowed tiles is now made up of sharp white walls, brightly lit fluorescent panels, and floors that gleam like they’ve never known dirt. The smell of antiseptic is strongand acrid, and speaks of how carefully sterile this environment is now kept.
Cain’s work turning the compound into a fortress extended beyond constructing new buildings and renovating old ones; he also hired new personnel after some thorough vetting, and we now have a team of highly-regarded doctors working with us, all of whom needed to stay out of the limelight thanks to one scandal or another. Our medical wing is no longer outdated and covered by a single man; it now has six doctors, several nurses, and even receptionists and assistants, all with different specialties.
I pass rows of glass-fronted rooms—examination rooms, recovery bays, X-ray and MRI rooms, labs—all rebuilt with state-of-the-art efficiency, housing the kind of equipment that nearly makes me forget how broken this wing once was.
My destination is the doctor’s office ahead, tucked at the end of a corridor. The polished door doesn’t creak even a bit as I open it, strolling inside and nodding in greeting at the new doctor. His brows furrow at my presumptuous entry, but he doesn’t comment. A member of Nighthawk leadership doesn’t need permission to enter rooms, because weownthem.
Dr. Ross is a balding man in his late forties who wanted to escape society after his wife of twenty years accused him of trying to traffick her. I thoroughly looked into him, and he did no such thing, but it looks like she wanted a payday—and she got one. He got a much better one the moment he joined the Nighthawks, and his resentment toward the world at large made him an ideal candidate to work here.
He did intake on Scarlett while she was unconscious, doing a workup on her that ranged from a full panel of bloodwork to a total body scan.
Ross picks up a stack of papers on his desk, stands, and rounds the table, coming to a stop a few feet away from me.
“A few concerning things to look out for with the new patient,” Ross says. “Overall, she’s healthy, but malnourished. Blood labs indicate some vitamin deficiencies—I’m most concerned about her low iron, and she’s in the critical zone with vitamin D. She needs to be out in the sun for an hour a day to get her vitamin D levels up, and for iron, incorporate more spinach and red meat into her diet.”
I nod. “Alright. What about her IUD?”
The doctor flips through a few files. “Ah, it looks like she had it taken out some months ago—it was expired—and never got a new one. As far as I can see, she’s not on any form of birth control.”
Good.
“What about the old wound in her thigh and her lung health?”
“Nothing showed up on MRI’s, so it’s safe to say she’s completely healed from the wound, and her lungs are healthy and hale. Aside from the things I mentioned, she’s just fine.”
“Excellent. Thanks, Doc. I’ll keep you apprised.” I pause. “How’s the gynecology wing coming along?”
“Oh, it’s all set to go.” Ross scratches behind his head. “I’m not quite sure why it’s necessary, given we have only one woman and no pregnancies…”
“Both of those things will be changing in the coming months and years,” I assure him. I certainly plan to fuck Scarlett as often as it takes to see her belly start to swell with our child—and I’d be amazed if Cain didn’t have similar plans for his chosen.
Then again, perhaps he doesn’t. Maybe he’ll want to keep whatever unfortunate woman who caught his attention all tohimself…
I do know that fatherhood was always in Max’s plans, at least. Our new system will enable him to realize that dream, which didn’t seem like a possibility for some time.
“This patient’s nutrient deficiencies have to be addressed before any pregnancy, if you’d like to avoid possible complications to the mother and child,” Ross warns me.
“Noted,” I reply. Scarlett will be eating alotof fucking spinach and steak for the next little while, and I see no problem with putting her in the greenhouse every day… save for the potential security risks.
The vast majority of Nighthawks respect Cain’s reign and changes, but one lingering point of discontent is the celibacy he forced on all the guys. We can no longer leave the fortress just for a fuck, so if the boys want to get some, they have to set aside time while they’re out on ops. Only a handful have been approved to seek out their Chosen woman, a process that takes time, so there are a lot of sex-deprived guys walking around the fortress… and Scarlett is a beautiful woman.
If I put her in or near the greenhouse, either I need to be with her, or I need to have someone I trust on her. Which, right now, is limited to Max… and possibly my unit of guys. I’ll need to chat with them first, impress upon them the consequences should they overstep, but I trust them to stay in their lanes.
“When the two of you are ready to start thinking seriously about pregnancy, let me know; we can put her on prenatal vitamins to help the process along.”
I almost smile at thewepart.
If I let Scarlett in on my plans, she’d throw a tantrum… but if she only finds out after the fact, what’s done will be done. I trust she’ll make an extraordinary mother.
I’m far more concerned about my abilities as a father. I didn’t have a very good example growing up, but for Scarlett… forourchild, I’d do everything in my fucking power to be the best father possible.
Chapter Fourteen
Scarlett
Iwake up in an unfamiliar roomyet again. It seems my life has been reduced to a sleep/wake cycle of confusion, panic, and eventually, forced surrender.
The bed beneath me is soft and luxurious, and far too large for one person. There’s a king-sized stretch of dark sheets that swallow me whole. Across the room, a low dresser presses against the wall. A window breaks the wall beside it, its curtains drawn just enough to spill late-afternoon light across the floor. To my right, a doorway leads to a bathroom, tile faintly gleaming from within. A few feet away, another door stands ajar, revealing the dark mouth of a walk-in closet.
