The Night It Began

The hum of fluorescent lights and the sterile scent of antiseptic filled the cramped ER at St. Jude’s Hospital. Lexi Thompson, clad in faded blue scrubs, her dark hair pulled into a messy bun, glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes until the end of her shift. Her feet ached, and the remnants of cold coffee sat bitter on her tongue.

The double doors crashed open, shattering the mundane chaos. A group of men surged in, carrying a bleeding body. The world seemed to tilt. The Morano crime family. Lexi’s pulse quickened, a cold wash of fear prickling her skin.

“Gunshot wound! He’s losing too much blood,” one of the men barked, his voice sharp with panic.

Lexi snapped into action. “Get him on the gurney. Now!” Her voice was steady, masking the storm within.

She pressed her hands against the wound, blood seeping through her gloves. The man on the table was young—barely out of his teens—his face pale and lips tinged blue.

The door swung open again, and the room seemed to contract. Julian “Jules” Morano stepped inside, his presence a cold shadow. His sharp jawline, the dark stubble, the piercing blue eyes—all cut from a mold of danger and dominance. His tailored suit was pristine, a stark contrast to the blood on his brother’s chest.

“Is he going to make it?” Jules’ voice was calm, but beneath it lay a threat, coiled and ready to strike.

Lexi didn’t look up. “I need space to work. If you want him to live, back off.”

Silence. The kind that weighed heavy. But then, a step back. The air moved, and Lexi exhaled, focusing on the task at hand.

Her fingers worked with practiced precision, stitching skin, threading hope through flesh. The nurses around her moved in rhythm, a well-rehearsed dance of life and death. Time slipped, and when she finally pulled off her bloodied gloves, Rico Morano’s breathing was steady.

Lexi looked up, meeting Jules’ gaze. His expression was unreadable, but his presence was a weight on her chest. She expected a thank you, perhaps a nod. Instead, he simply stared, his blue eyes slicing through the space between them.

“Will he recover?”

“If he rests. And if he’s kept safe from whatever put him here.”

A flicker of amusement ghosted over his lips. “That’s not your concern.”

“It is if he’s my patient.”

Jules stepped closer, his shadow swallowing the weak hospital light. “Then I suppose you’ll be seeing a lot of us, Nurse Thompson.”

The way he said her name sent a chill through her. She wasn’t sure if it was fear or something far more dangerous. She took a breath, grounding herself. “I’ll do my job. But I won’t be dragged into whatever this is.”

A slow smile curved his lips. “We’ll see.”

And as he turned, leaving her in the dim light of the ER, Lexi knew with a sinking certainty that her world had just shifted—and nothing would ever be the same again.

TBC

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