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The office door creaks on its hinges as I push it open. Constantino is sprawled across the desk, his body motionless save for the steady rise and fall of his chest. The metallic scent of blood mingles with the faint tang of antiseptic from the open med kit perched precariously on a chair.
"Okay, let's see what we're dealing with," I murmur. I reach for the small flashlight and flick it on, directing the beam athis pupils. They constrict evenly, thank God. His pulse throbs strong and deliberate under my fingers. I take a deep breath, letting the familiar rhythm of assessment ground me. One problem at a time.
I move on to his jaw, gingerly tracing the line of it with the tips of my fingers. His skin is hot and taut with swelling, but as I probe gently, I find no telltale shift of broken bone, which is a surprise given what I saw in the fight. "Not broken...just feels like hell," I breathe out in relief.
His torso shows the signs of the fight more than anywhere else; purples and blacks bloom across his skin, each bruise a silent testament to the fight he survived. As I palpate his ribs, my touch as light as I can make it, his muscles tense reflexively, a quiet groan escaping his lips. Broken or just cracked, it's hard to be sure without an X-ray, but either way, I know the drill: tape, rest, repeat.
He's lucky, far luckier than he should be. And as I look down at the man—a behemoth brought low—I can't help but feel the stirrings of something complicated and unwelcome. Something akin to admiration. For his strength, perhaps. Or maybe just for his sheer, dumb luck.
The moment the door bursts open, I know Teddy's hurried steps before I even look up.
"Is he okay? What happened?" Teddy pants out, his voice cracking with panic as his gaze flits from his unconscious brother to me. The desperation is clear in his blue eyes.
"Let's talk. Alone." My voice is a hushed command, stripped of any warmth. Without waiting for his response, I stride past him and lead him into the room across the hall. I reach out for Evan, the soldier gently giving the boy back to me. I feel the weight of Evan's slumbering form settle more firmly into my arms. The boy's breaths are soft puffs against my neck, innocent and trusting.
I lower myself onto the nearest chair chair, the leather cold and unyielding beneath me. Evan stirs but doesn't wake, his small hand gripping onto my shirt.
Teddy follows, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He divides his attention between Evan and me, his brows knitting together.
"Jesus, a lot must have happened since the last time we saw each other," he mutters, the joke falling flat in the heavy air.
I nod, pressing my lips into a thin line. "You could say that."
I start the tale, weaving through the events, watching his expression morph from confusion to horror to steely resolve.
I get to the part about Declan's demise. I hesitate for a minute, sucking down a breath to give myself time to think. "Constantino's uppercut is what did him in," I finally say. I know it's a lie, but some truths are too dark, even for this place.
"Damn," Teddy said. "Never thought it would come to something like that."
I shrug. "I don't really know the history of your family and the Irish."
"Yeah, well, Consty's been managing them for a while. But, in our world, things usually end up like this."
"Sad," I say.
Teddy nods his head in silent agreement. "So, my brother..." his words trail off, his concern for Constantino clear in his tone.
"He had a seizure at the end of the fight," I say to Teddy.
Teddy's eyes widen. It's clear he's not sure how much he's allowed to say.
I shake my head. "It's alright, Teddy. I know."
"How'd you find out?" he asks.
"Teddy, I'm a doctor, remember?"
"Oh, right, right," he says, more to himself than anything else.
"He'll be alright," I assure him, though my own thoughts are a tangled mess.
"Thanks for looking after him," Teddy says eventually, the gratitude genuine but overshadowed by the gravity of our situation. There's a shift in him now; the joker façade has slipped, revealing the weight he carries. "What about the kid?" he asks, referring to Evan.
I hug the little boy closer to me as he sleeps. "He'll stay with me until Constantino is back on his feet."
Teddy furrows his brow. "You don't really think that my brother is going to take care of a child, do you?"
There's no malice in his words, but Teddy just doesn't understand all that the boy and his brother went through together.
