Gangster's Paradise // Rio (Good Girls)

8.What Is It You Think I Want

Isla's heart was racing, and she could feel the blood pounding in her ears as she nervously played with her fingers. Her eyes darted around quickly, taking in her surroundings as the dark-eyed man drove her down the street. She was terrified and unsure of what was going to happen next, especially given that he had asked her to prepare a medical bag before leaving her house. She didn't know what he had gotten himself into, but she knew she didn't want any part of it.

"W-where are you taking me?" she asked in a voice barely above a whisper, her fear palpable. The man didn't respond immediately, and there was a long period of silence before he finally spoke.

"You'll see when we get there," he said in his husky voice, and Isla couldn't stop the tears that escaped her eyes once again. She released a slow breath, trying to calm herself, knowing that panicking would only make things worse. She was already in the worst-case scenario, and she had to find a way to keep her wits about her.

The rest of the car ride was silent. When the car finally stopped, she found herself unable to muster the will to get out. The dark-eyed stranger glanced at her, but she kept her gaze fixed forward. He remained seated, seemingly waiting for her to make a move.

"We are here," he announced, opening his car door and stepping out. However, she remained motionless, gripping the medical bag tightly on her lap. Closing her eyes, she flinched as he slammed his door shut. Suddenly, her door was forcefully flung open.

"Get out of the car, Isla," he commanded. Paralyzed by fear, she couldn't bring herself to move. He grabbed her wrist and yanked her out, causing her to stumble briefly before regaining her balance. Turning to look back at him, she desperately tried to pull her arm free.

He maintained a firm grip as he began walking towards the building. Tears continued to stream down her face as she weakly struggled against his hold. Arriving at a metal door, he swiftly opened it, causing her to gasp in shock at the sight that lay beyond.

A man sat in a chair, clutching his shoulder as blood poured out, indicating a severe bullet wound. Isla's eyes roamed the room, and she found herself the center of attention as everyone's gaze fixed upon her. She longed to disappear, not wanting the weight of their expectant stares.

"Fix him," the dark-eyed stranger simply stated, giving her a gentle push forward.

"Bring him to the hospital," she whispered, her voice barely audible. But the stranger let out a low chuckle, licking his lips in a disconcerting manner. Nervously, she rubbed her lips together, her gaze darting around the room until it landed on a familiar face. It was her patient from about a couple of weeks ago, the man who had mysteriously disappeared two days after waking up, leaving no trace behind.

"I don't need to bring him to the hospital, Isla. Do you want to know why?" The stranger leaned in closer, whispering into her ear. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for his words. "Because you're here to fix him." With trembling hands, Isla approached the wounded man.

She assessed the severity of the injury, her mind racing with the necessary steps to help him. The room fell into an eerie silence, as she worked

Isla carefully sterilized the area surrounding the bullet wound, meticulously cleansing it to create a sterile field. With steady hands, she began the delicate surgery, her focus unwavering.

First, she made a precise incision along the edge of the entry point, exposing the damaged tissues beneath. Blood oozed gently as she worked, and Isla swiftly controlled the bleeding, applying pressure and using surgical clamps to secure any severed vessels.

With utmost care, she explored the wound, gently extracting bullet fragments and debris that could impede the healing process. Once the area was clear, isla meticulously repaired the torn muscles and tissues. Using fine sutures, she skillfully sutured the muscle fibers, layer by layer, reestablishing their integrity.