At 2:14 a.m., five heavily armed men dragged the most ruthless syndicate boss in New York through the sliding doors of Mercy General Hospital, and the first person brave enough to lay hands on him was the woman they sneered at.

Clara didn't blink. She didn't flush with embarrassment or cower under Leo’s cruel, breathless chuckle. After years in the trenches of the emergency room, the fragile egos of violent men were nothing more than background noise to the actual monitors blaring their warnings.

Gabriel Thorne’s chest was not rising on the right side. His lips were taking on a terrifying, cyanotic blue hue. The gunshot wound had punctured his lung, and every desperate gasp he took was trapping air inside his chest cavity, crushing his heart. It was a textbook tension pneumothorax.

"Victor," Clara said, her voice slicing through the heavy tension in the room like a scalpel. "If you don't get that boy out of my trauma bay in the next five seconds, your boss is going to die on my table. And it won't be because I’m fat. It will be because your man wouldn't shut his mouth and let me save his life."

Victor’s head snapped toward Leo. The older enforcer didn't say a word. He just gave a single, terrifying look. Leo’s smirk vanished instantly. He took a step back, raising his hands, and slipped out the double doors without another sound.

"Chloe," Clara barked, reaching for the sterilized tray. "Fourteen-gauge needle. Now."

The younger nurse fumbled for a second before slapping the long, terrifyingly thick needle into Clara’s gloved hand. Clara didn't hesitate. She palpated Gabriel’s chest, finding the second intercostal space at the mid-clavicular line.

"What are you doing?" Victor demanded, taking a step forward.

"I am buying him time," Clara said.

She plunged the needle directly into Gabriel Thorne’s chest. A sharp, loud hiss of escaping air followed immediately. The trapped pressure released. Instantly, Gabriel’s chest began to rise and fall with more natural rhythm, and the terrifying plunge of his blood pressure leveled out on the monitor.

Gabriel’s eyes fluttered open. They were the color of dark whiskey, clouded with pain but shockingly alert. He bypassed Victor, bypassing the sterile lights, and locked directly onto Clara’s face.