Reaper moved his gaze to the window, then back to her.
“You saved a man who was supposed to die,” he told her.
The room seemed to tilt.Her breath caught, a cold thread of recognition pulling tight inside her chest.Images flashed unbidden.Blood soaking through gauze, a weak grip on her wrist.Please, he’d whispered.Her stomach dropped.
“The man in the ER,” she said slowly.“The stab wound.”
“Yes,” he simply said.
Elena swallowed hard.“Who ...who was he?”
Reaper didn’t hesitate.“A snitch.He betrayed the cartel.Ran when he should’ve stayed loyal,” he said.
The words felt unreal, like something out of a crime show she never watched.She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady her breathing.
“He was just a patient,” she said.“He was bleeding out.I didn’t know any of that.”
“I know,” Reaper said, and for the first time, something like restraint crossed his expression.“But they don’t care.You kept him alive long enough for him to matter again.”
Elena’s pulse roared in her ears.“So they want to kill me because I did my job?”Elena asked.
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It makes perfect sense to them,” he replied.“You’re an easy target.A nurse with no family or friends.No protection.Your death sends a message to the next doctor who thinks about saving the wrong man.”
A chill crept up her spine, slow and merciless.
She backed up a step, the edge of her couch bumping into the backs of her knees.
“You said you’re not here to hurt me,” she said.
“I’m not,” Reaper said.“If I were, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
She searched his face, looking for cracks, lies, anything that would tell her she was making a mistake just standing here with him.All she found was grim certainty.
“Then why you?”she asked.“Why does the Devil’s Crown MC care about me at all?”
“Because the cartel is moving near our territory,” he said.“And because if they make an example of you, it becomes our problem next.”
That answer didn’t comfort her nearly as much as she thought it should.Before she could respond, a sound cut through the night.The low growl of engines.Tires hissed against pavement outside, a sharp, ugly sound that raised every instinct she had.
Reaper snapped his head toward the window.
“Shit,” he muttered.
“What is that?”Elena asked, dread pooling in her stomach.
“Backup,” he said.“Or what passes for it.”
He moved fast, crossing the room in two long strides and gripping her arm just above the elbow.His hand was warm, solid and unyielding.
“We have to go now,” Reaper insisted.
She recoiled instinctively, heart hammering.“Wait.I can’t just—”
“Pack,” he said, voice hard.“Bare essentials, clothes, medication if you need it.We don’t have time for anything else.”
