Page 98 of Brutal Truths

I rest a hand on Isabel’s shoulder, grounding her while making a point. “And this is his daughter, who also happens to be a doctor.”

His eyes widen, telling me he recognizes the name.

“So I’ll ask you again, what’s the problem?”

Isabel doesn’t give him a chance to respond. “Dr. Miller refuses to let me go back.”

“Hospital policy. I don’t care if the future king walked through that door making demands. Who Mr. Doyle is doesn’t change how we treat him. We treat all our patients the same.” He gestures to the chairs behind him. “Once we’ve evaluated him, the doctor will come and talk to you.”

“Fine.” Isabel stomps her foot and heads for the waiting area.

Before I can join her, the doctor catches my arm. “I meant what I said. He’ll get our best.”

“Make sure he does.” My arm slips free with a slight twist. “And for the record, I understand you have policies. But that woman got him here alive. Don’t let that be for nothing.”

“We will do everything we can. You have my word.”

“One more thing.” My attention remains on him. “You may have another patient coming in. Critical thigh wound. Knife still lodged. He’ll need surgery.”

That lands. I see it in the way his expression tightens.

“This place isn’t exactly built for trauma,” I add.

“It’s not,” he admits, glancing toward Isabel before refocusing on me. “But we handle what comes through those doors. Our job is to stabilize and transfer.”

A pause stretches between us.

“We’re short on staff. Managing both could stretch us thin.”

I can’t help the smile that takes over my face. “Then you’re in luck. I’m ninety-nine percent certain my cousin will accompany them. She’s a surgeon at John Radcliffe Hospital. The same place Isabel is finishing her foundation years.”

I let that sink in.

“So when they get here… maybe break that hospital policy a bit. Have them do what they’re trained for, and your crew can zero in on Doyle.

“How long?”

“Twenty to get here. He’ll need to double back, load the patient, then return.” My eyes lift to the clock on the wall. “Call it forty, give or take. Depends on how cooperative the arsehole is.”

The doctor pinches the bridge of his nose before sighing. “Guess I’d better go prep my staff.”

He turns his back to me and rushes off, pushing his way through a set of solid doors.

With him gone, I join Isabel. My arse barely hits the hard plastic seat before she starts in.

“I could have helped. Sitting here feels like a waste of my time and talents.”

Resting a hand on her arm, I try to offer her support. “Let them do their jobs. You got him here. Now let them get him the rest of the way.”

“Fine.” A breath leaves her before she leans into me, her head resting against my shoulder. “I don’t get it. None of this makes sense. What are the odds that Trent would find us the same fucking day Rurik set you up? Something isn’t adding up.”

No, it’s not.

The whole thing’s been off since the beginning. Pieces that should fit together… don’t. I know I’m missing something that’s right in front of me. When I figure it out, I’m going to kick my arse for not seeing it sooner.

“I don’t know if I buy Rurik to be both a Del Markov and a Doyle. That’s messed up. They hate each other. So how can that even be true?” Her sigh says enough. Not shock. Disappointment. “Trent didn’t deny it. If anything he seemed to believe him.”

“I’ll dig into it. There are whispers in the family about Trent kidnapping Alexei Del Markov’s little sister during the war. Claims he used her to draw Alexei out and kill him. An eye for an eye.” After pulling out my phone, I message Darius, asking him to check into it. “He kept her until the bratva left London. Only sent her back after they promised to stay gone.”