Playing with Fire (Book One of The Kazuya Series) (✔️)

七 (Seven)

A/N:

Couldn't let you suffer!!🤭😘🥰

Enjoy!

-B. 😘
~~~~~~~~~~~
(Arielle's POV)

My hands were shaking the whole ride and a million thoughts were running through my mind.

Once we arrived, I was opening the door and jumping out before he came to a full stop. I grabbed two of the bags and ran inside.

The place was a mess and there was a lot of blood.

About thirty men filled the living area and I quickly scanned for one person.

"Elle, start triaging." Doc said, appearing beside me.

I wasn't fully listening though. I was still looking. I had to find him. I had to know he was okay.

"Elle, are you listening?" Doc asked, grabbing my arm.

I finally spotted him sitting in front of the fireplace with a towel pressed to his side. Panic filled me and I was moving before I even realized it.

I pushed my way through everyone with urgency until I got to him.

I'm sure I surprised everyone, including him, when I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him. I pulled back within seconds and looked down where he was holding the towel.

"Let me see." I said, trying to pull his hand away.

"Them first." He said, motioning to the other injured individuals.

"Absolutely not."

"Them. First."

"Koan. No."

He placed a hand on my cheek, neither of us caring that it was bloody, and looked me straight in the eyes.

"I'm okay. Help them first." He said.

"Koan,"

"Elle. Now."

"Promise you're okay."

"Promise." He nodded.

"Don't move."

He nodded again.

I turned around just as Izumi came over.

"I'll sit with him." She said.

For the next hour, Doc and I treated those injured. Some almost needed surgery, but Doc was able to handle it. While he finished patching Shiro up, I ran back to Koan.

I crouched down in front of him as he pulled the towel away to let me look. I had to lift his shirt to get a good look at the wound.

Thankfully, it didn't go through him or anything like that. It grazed his side more than anything. It would require quite a few stitches, but he'd live.

"Want me to stitch you or Elle?" Doc asked, crouching down beside me and looking at it too.

"Elle." He answered without hesitation.

Doc nodded before looking at me. "Should go wash your hands and change your gloves."

He didn't get to finish that sentence before I was running to the bathroom. I threw my bloody gloves in the trash, scrubbed my hands, and grabbed a new pair of gloves.

He'd moved from the fireplace to the couch and had taken his shirt off.

"You don't need numbed, right?" I asked.