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"Still," I responded, "I'd prefer facts over empty reassurances."
Her gaze lingered on me for a moment longer before she nodded. "Alright," she said, folding her arms across her chest and leaning against the foot of my bed. It was an oddly informal gesture, one that seemed more fitting of a seasoned colleague than a doctor speaking with her patient. But then again, maybe that was her way of granting my request. "I was the surgeon for your case. My name is Dr. Ospina."
I nodded, vaguely recognizing the name from some medical journal I had read in the past. "Kelly Ospina?"
She nodded. She was a respected trauma surgeon with a reputation for being ruthless in her pursuit of saving lives. It was comforting to know I was in capable hands.
“My bullet wound?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
She eyed me for a moment before starting, "The bullet missed your heart by an inch. It pierced your liver but we managed to control the bleeding and repair the damage during surgery. You were very lucky, Dr. Silva."
Lucky. Right. I wasn’t feeling very lucky at the moment. But I nodded, biting back a groan as my muscles protested even that small movement.
"As you know, with a GSW like this, there's always the chance of secondary complications, like infection or clotting," she continued. "We've got you on prophylactic antibiotics and anticoagulants to prevent these potentialities, but you'll need to be closely monitored in the coming weeks."
I could feel the room go still, my mind meticulously processing her words. Complications.
"And another concern is the bile leakage from the liver damage," Dr. Ospina added. "We have placed a drain to help prevent any buildup, but you may need an ERCP procedure if the leakage doesn’t stop. You’ll also need to adjust your diet and minimize physical strain during recovery."
Justice’s grip on my hand tightened, her eyes meeting mine as she gave me a small reassuring smile. She was trying to stay strong, for me. For all of us. I squeezed back, giving her a nod of understanding. Skylar looked a bit pale but he kept his poise, ever stoic.
"So basically," I summarized with a forced chuckle, "I am going to be incredibly boring for the foreseeable future."
Dr. Ospina's lips quirked up in an amused smile. "Well, you could put it that way," she said. “But it’s better than bleeding out on an operating table.”
As jokes went, it was a pretty grim one. But she was right and I knew it.
"The catheter?"
"Can be removed tomorrow," she replied with a small nod.
Bash, who'd been quietly observing the conversation from the corner of the room, stepped forward. "And when can he leave the hospital?" he asked, his voice gruff.
Dr. Ospina seemed unperturbed by Bash's impatience. "We'll see how he recovers in the next few days," she said calmly. "If the bile leakage stops and there are no signs of infection or complications, we can consider discharge in a week."
"A week?" Bash echoed incredulously. "That's..."
"Non-negotiable," Dr. Ospina cut him off, her tone firm and final.
"He's got a lot of healing to do, Mr. Rivera," she added in a softer tone, almost sympathetic. “Contrary to what you might believe, Dr. Silva here is not invincible. This was luck. Now, obviously, with a GSW the hospital needs to notify the authorities."
The room shifted again. There was a collective held breath; we all knew what that meant. More trouble we didn't need. But there was no use in making a fuss. This was standard procedure.
"I understand," I replied curtly.
Skylar muttered something under his breath, some unrepeatable British swear words that would've drawn a laugh from me on any other day.
"We'll cooperate fully with the investigation," Bash assured her, his tone brokering no argument. Dr. Ospina watched him for a moment before giving a noncommittal nod.
"Alright then," she murmured, turning back to me. "Try to rest, Dr. Silva."
With that, she exited the room, leaving the tension behind her like an unwelcome residual presence.
"I'll worry about the law, Zane," Bash said. "You just recover, okay?"
I nodded slightly, his words rolling around in my brain. Recover. It was a more daunting task than it should've been. But looking at Justice, Skylar, and Bash before me, their faces etched with worry and resolve, I knew it was something I needed to do and quickly.
"Listen," I started carefully, trying not to let my physical pain seep into my tone. "Vito De Luca...he won't stop." It was a simple truth, one that we all knew too well. "And as long as I'm stuck here, I'm an easy target."
