Page 68 of The Pakhan’s Accidental Bride

The clinic is at the far side of the estate, a fully equipped medical facility I keep staffed twenty-four, seven. When you're in my line of work, you need a doctor who doesn't ask questions and doesn't report gunshot wounds to the police.

"You're supposed to be smart," Luca continues, still berating me. "Strategic. Not throwing yourself into unnecessary fights like some street thug trying to prove he's tough."

"It was necessary."

"Bullshit."

We reach the clinic, and the doctor looks up from his desk. His eyes widen slightly when he sees me, but he's too professional to comment. He just gestures to the examination table.

Luca helps me onto it, and I bite back a groan as I settle against the padded surface. Everything hurts. Everything.

"Leave us," the doctor says to Luca.

"I'm staying."

The doctor looks at me, and I nod. Luca's not going anywhere, and honestly, I don't have the energy to argue.

He begins his examination, his hands gentle but thorough. He checks my ribs, jaw, and nose, all the most obvious signs of injury. Then he shines a light in my eyes to check for a concussion and takes my blood pressure.

"You're lucky," he finally says. "No broken ribs, though several are badly bruised. Your nose is broken, but it's a clean break. I can reset it now. The cuts will need stitches."

"Do it."

He works efficiently, resetting my nose with a sharp crack that makes even Luca wince. Then he stitches the cut above my eyebrow and the one on my cheekbone. The whole time, Luca stands against the wall, arms crossed, glaring at me.

"This was the best way," I tell him when the doctor steps away to prepare bandages. "The brothers needed to feel like they fought for her. Like they did everything they could to protect her. Now they can accept the marriage without feeling like they failed her."

"You could have just talked to them."

"Talk hasn't worked with them so far. Their concern for their baby sister runs too deep. Mere words aren't going to convince them of anything. They needed action." I shift on the table, trying to find a position that doesn't hurt. I shrug, wincing at the pain slicing through my body. "I gave them the action they needed."

"You're insane."

"Maybe."

Luca shakes his head and walks out, muttering something in Russian about stubborn idiots.

The doc returns with bandages and pain medication. He wraps my ribs, tapes my nose, and hands me a bottle of pills.

"Take these every six hours for the pain. Rest for at least forty-eight hours. No strenuous activity."

I nod, though we both know I won't follow those instructions. The doctor finishes up and leaves me alone in the clinic.

I sit there for a moment, taking inventory of my body. Every single muscle aches. Every bone feels bruised. Every tendon is strained. I've been shot, stabbed, beaten more times than I can count, so I am used to my body being abused.

Before I can stand, the door opens and Luca walks back in. This time, he's not alone.

Kiera's with him.

Her face is pale, her blue eyes wide with something that looks like fear. For me? The thought sends an unexpected warmth through my chest, cutting through the pain.

"How could you be so stupid?" The words burst out of her like she's been holding them back. "Are you alright? You deserve every single injury you got. Does it hurt a lot? What were you thinking? Four men, Emil. Four."

She crosses the room in quick strides and wraps her arm around my waist, careful of my ribs. The gesture is so unexpected, so tender, that I freeze for a moment.

"Come on," she says. "Let's get you to your room."

"The library," I correct. "I need to work."