Page 22 of Savage Saint

Visually, he looks exhausted, but the fact he’s carrying on a conversation puts me a little more at ease.

“Kaos.”

That makes me pause, and I raise a brow at him. “Your mother named you two Saint and Kaos?”

For a beat after, the room goes silent. Looks are exchanged.

Did I say something wrong?

I don’t ask either. Instead, I slowly peel back the dressing, careful not to hurt him further, and look at the wound. He’ll need anesthesia for me to prod the shoulder, but this is a deep graze. It’s ugly, an uneven path of torn flesh cutting across his rib area, the edges angry and raw beneath all the blood.

His mouth twitches, gaze looking past me toward who I assume is Saint. Then back to me. “No. It’s Santos and Trino De La Cruz.”

Santos. Saint. My kidnapper.

“Trino, I’m Genesis.” As I introduce myself, I’m filing away that tiny tidbit of information for later and reach for the saline. Kaos looks at me and nods, almost steeling himself for what he knows is coming. “Now this is going to hurt.”

6

GENESIS

“Everything fucking hurts, Genesis. Go ahead.”

“Good. Then you’re prepared.” I squeeze a steady stream over the wound, washing away enough blood to get a better look. Pink-tinged saline runs down his side and onto the absorbent pad beneath him while I follow the path of damaged tissue from one end of the cut to the other.

Trino hisses through his teeth but stays still.

“Sorry.”

“You don’t sound sorry,” he says, grimacing when I use sterile gauze to carefully blot along the edges before leaning closer, adding a little pressure around the torn skin to test for swelling and tenderness.

“I’m not. It’s a professional courtesy.” No puncture. No entry point I can see. “This one’s a deep, ugly gash. The bullet looks to have grazed you instead of entering.”

“Looks?” Saint asks from behind me, and I glance over my shoulder. “I need concrete assurance⁠—”

“Unless you have an X-ray machine hidden somewhere in here…” I cut him off, my expression deadpan “…then looks is what you’re getting.”

Rizos clears his throat, pointing his free hand toward the corner. My eyes follow his finger to what I think is a closet door. “That’s the X-ray room. Not big, but it gets the job done.”

Right. Of course they do.

This just keeps getting crazier.

“Well, that’s convenient, I’m sure.” What else can I say? Nobody adds their two cents in, either. Then again, it’s not far-fetched for men like them to end up in dangerous situations—dead. But to have the equivalent of a small urgent care? That’s throwing me for a loop.

Exhaling, I turn back to Trino. He’s still paler than I’d like. “The good news is I’m not seeing an entry point along your side. It looks like the bullet sliced across your flesh, rather than piercing your abdomen. It still tore through skin and tissue, which explains the blood and why you’d feel a burning sensation.”

My patient’s eyes narrow a bit. “I didn’t tell you it burned.”

“Saint did.” At my response, Trino tilts his head and looks between me and the man I feel staring at me. Their president’s eyes on me feel different from everyone else’s. It unnerves me in an entirely not-so-unpleasant way. “And that’s good, right?”

Get it together, girl. “Compared to what it could’ve been? Best case right now.” Placing fresh gauze over the wound for now, I look over at Rizos. His name makes no sense to me; the man’s hair couldn’t be straighter, not a curl in sight. “I’m going to need you to switch with me. Keep light pressure here; I want to see his shoulder.”

He immediately does as told. I like him.

The dressing on Trino’s shoulder comes away slowly. There’s less blood here, but what’s underneath immediately has my full attention. Small and round—deep. Definitely an entry wound, the size barely wider than the tip of my finger. “You said you think this one went through?”

“Yeah.” His voice is a little low, but that could be from the shock or stress. A vasovagal reaction is possible, especially with the pain, and the blood loss isn’t helping. His moments of lightheadedness could be attributed to that, too, but until I take his vitals, I won’t assume anything.