Chapter 4
"An asset?" Clara repeated, the word leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. "I'm a county paramedic. Unless you need someone to perform CPR on your victims, I'm useless to you."
Julian took a slow sip of his drink. "Two weeks ago, my primary trauma surgeon was compromised by a rival faction. He's currently residing in a barrel at the bottom of the Puget Sound. When my men get hit, they can't exactly walk into Seattle Grace Hospital with gang-related gunshot wounds. They need a ghost."
Clara stared at him, the reality of his proposal settling heavily in her chest. "You want me to be your underground doctor."
"I want you to pay off your brother's debt," Julian corrected. "Every bullet you pull, every artery you tie off, deducts from the ledger. You work for the Thorne syndicate until the math zeroes out. Then, you walk."
Victor scoffed quietly. "She's a rural EMT, Julian. She puts bandaids on chainsaw nicks. She doesn't know how to handle combat trauma."
Clara turned her piercing gaze to Victor. "Five years ago, a logging truck rolled off a ravine in Blackwood. The driver's femoral artery was severed by a fractured steering column. It took the MedEvac chopper two hours to land in the storm. I kept him alive for one hundred and twenty minutes using a clamped pair of vice grips and my bare hands. Don't tell me what I can't handle."
The room went dead silent. Samson, who had been resting near the elevator, lifted his massive head, sensing the shift in the room's pressure.
Julian’s lips twitched upward into something that wasn't quite a smile, but it held undeniable respect. He set his glass down.
"Victor," Julian said, never taking his eyes off Clara. "Take her down to sub-level four. Let her shower, give her a fresh set of scrubs, and show her the clinic."
"Julian, you can't be serious," Victor argued.
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"Do it," Julian commanded, the air freezing over. "We have three men bleeding out from a territorial dispute in the South End. Let's see if the paramedic can stitch them up before they expire."
Clara didn't wait for Victor to lead the way. She turned toward the elevator. "Point the way," she demanded.
