He knew that face.
Everyoneknew that face.
Trevor Sanchez, former medic to the Alpha Team once commanded by Captain Jamie Callahan, strode forward with murder in his brown eyes. That strikingly handsome face, with its sharp features and shadow of a beard, had been splashed across the news streams for weeks on end after the attack in April.
It made sense now how the gunman had been subdued without anyone laying a hand on him. Brendan stared up at a man he knew to be a metahuman, trying to ignore the fiery pain radiating from the side of his bruised face, and forced himself to overcome the panic beating through his brain.
“You’re bleeding,” Trevor said.
As soon as Trevor mentioned his wound, Brendan’s brain remembered it was there. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he shifted his hold on the unconscious woman in his arms.
“I know. It’s fine. I’ll deal with it later.”
“We can deal with it now.”
“Is it safe?”
“Our immediate area is.”
“Okay. Erin?”
Erin popped up from wherever she’d taken cover. “Brendan? He said you’re bleeding.”
He gestured pointedly at the woman in his arms. “Later. Help me get her out of here. She needs a doctor.”
“Let me help,” Trevor offered.
“She has internal injuries,” Brendan warned as he witnessed Trevor use telekinesis firsthand.
Brendan’s patient was lifted out of his arms by an invisible force, her body gently straightened out as she floated in mid-air. Brendan blinked in surprise before pushing himself to his feet with his good arm.
“Is it safe for everyone out here?” he asked.
Trevor nodded. “Safe enough. The police are on their way according to the AI.”
Brendan wondered what Trevor—ametahuman—was doing here then. “You weren’t called in?”
The smile Trevor gave him made Brendan’s stomach swoop a little. Or maybe it was the hit to the head he’d taken earlier.
“I’m a medical student here now, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to ignore an emergency like this.”
Brendan let his gaze move up and down Trevor’s body for a quick second, taking in his civilian attire. When he saw the gun again, he couldn’t repress the full-body flinch at the sight of it. He was grateful when Trevor tucked it out of sight as they walked farther into the ward. Beside him, Erin was informing dispatch of their status.
Brendan reached for his patient with his right arm, the med-glove there still intact. The scan results that came up weren’t good and he swore. “We need to get her into the OR.”
“How is she related to the assholes back there?” Trevor wanted to know.
“Domestic violence situation. The police were called and then so were we.”
Trevor nodded, unfazed by the answer as he raised his voice. “Situation is under control. Police are on their way. We’ve got injured who need to be seen to.”
Two nurses made a beeline for them, carting a hovergurney between them, and Brendan was grateful for their assistance.
“Incoming Medic 2?” the older woman asked as she lined up the hovergurney beside Lydia Briggs.
“Yes. Trauma report should be in the system,” Brendan said. “Initial field scans indicated internal injuries.”
“Trauma alert team is still standing by. Let’s get her in the OR.”
