23
Antonio
I text one of my contacts and get the address of the nearest doctor who is willing to help us.
We don’t drive for more than an hour before taking a side road covered in gravel. The ride is bumpy and jars the vehicle around. Ardian must be hiding his pain or unconscious, because I don’t hear a peep from him in the front seat.
I direct Aleksandra to turn into an unmarked driveway a few minutes later.
Aleksandra is silent, and her knuckles are white on the steering wheel. Every so often, she glances at Ardian in the front seat.
His breathing is weak, labored, and he’s lost quite a bit of blood. I hate to admit Aleksandra was right. Sending him to the hospital would have been a better choice, but that’s not a viable option.
Doctors are trained to bring in the police, and they ask questions. At least medical professionals living off-grid keep to themselves, and the man we’re heading to see, he’s lost his medical license for killing a patient. His name was all over the news, and while I’d rather not bring Ardian to him, what other options are there?
We can’t just wander into a local clinic without drawing too much attention to ourselves.
When we pull up at a remote cabin in the woods, my stomach flops.
“Stay in the car,” I order Aleksandra. Hopefully, she doesn’t leave Ardian and my ass behind.
The moment she stops, the engine is idle, and I jump out of the backseat, hurrying to the front door.
All I can hope is this isn’t an ambush and the only man who betrayed me tonight is dead.
I pound aggressively on the front door.
There’s a commotion behind the door, and the interior light flickers on behind the covered windows inside the cabin.
A gentleman opens the door. He’s in sweatpants and a flannel shirt. He appears more awake than I would have thought, given the amount of time it took for him to answer the door. But he’s not brandishing a weapon or threatening me for trespassing.
“Gian sent me,” I say to explain my appearance at his front door.
“Where’s the patient?” he asks, glancing past me at the running vehicle in the driveway.
Did Gian warn him that we were coming and for him to be ready?
“In the front seat,” I say, and he follows me outside in his slippers to escort Ardian into the cabin.
The air is chilly, and our breath is visible from the cold.
There are lights around the front of his property, offering a slight glow along the driveway in addition to the vehicle’s headlights that are illuminated.
Aleksandra doesn’t say a word.
Sophia and Liam have fallen asleep in the back seat.
The doctor glances from Aleksandra to the sleeping twins before helping me carry Ardian inside. “Put him on the table,” he says. He doesn’t mention the kids or ask about Aleksandra.
How much did Gian tell him?
There’s a kitchen table that’s been cleared and on a nearby counter, medical supplies. He was waiting for our arrival.
I help Ardian onto the table, laying him down. Blood pools at his injuries, spilling past his torn and tattered clothing.
The doctor examines his wounds, ripping Ardian’s pants further to expose the injury. Shrapnel protrudes from his flesh. I’m not the least bit squeamish, but watching the physician remove the metal shards isn’t a favorite pastime.
I head toward the window, glancing out at the vehicle.