The Chains That Bind - MLM (John Kramer X M!Reader)

Chapter 26: Lines Drawn in Blood

The silence was thick after Amanda's departure, the air in the room heavy with the weight of everything that had just transpired. John stood there for a moment longer, watching the door through which Amanda had stormed out, his face betraying little of the turmoil he might have felt inside. He then turned, his gaze landing on you, his eyes softening when they reached your injured hand.

"You need to take care of that," John said in his familiar, calm tone. "Hoffman."

Hoffman, still standing by the door, nodded, understanding his command immediately. His eyes flicked to your hand, now swollen and slick with drying blood from the brutal struggle with Amanda. Without another word, he approached you, but you could still feel the tension in the room simmering. It clung to the walls, to the floor, like a residue that couldn't be cleaned.

"Go with him," John instructed, his voice quiet, but there was a finality to it that made you feel that this situation was far from over. He was going to confront Amanda, and the outcome would be something that would change the course of all of your lives. "I'll speak with Amanda."

Your eyes met his for a brief moment, searching for something-anything-that would give you a clue about what he was thinking. His face was impassive, but you could feel the intensity lurking beneath the surface. He gave you a small nod, and with that, he turned and left the room, moving in the direction Amanda had gone.

Hoffman placed a firm hand on your shoulder, urging you toward the door as well. "Come on," he grunted, his usual lack of sentiment showing through. "Let's get your hand sorted."

You followed him out, the sting in your fingers making you wince with each step. As you walked, you couldn't help but think about Amanda-about how close she had come to killing you. It wasn't the physical pain that gnawed at you the most, but the betrayal, the sheer hatred in her eyes when she had pulled the trigger. You had thought there was a chance to make peace with her, but that moment was shattered, leaving behind only bitter shards of distrust.

Hoffman led you down the hall into a small, dimly lit room that served as an impromptu medical space. A steel table in the center, various tools scattered across its surface, and a cold, sterile smell in the air.

"Sit," Hoffman ordered, pulling out a chair for you. You sat down, feeling the exhaustion of the entire ordeal starting to weigh you down. Hoffman grabbed a first aid kit from one of the cabinets and placed it on the table, opening it with a swift motion. He didn't waste time with small talk, his hands moving deftly as he pulled out gauze, antiseptic, and bandages.

"Hold still," he said brusquely as he grabbed your injured hand. You flinched involuntarily at his touch, but he didn't seem to notice-or care. He began cleaning the wound, the sharp sting of antiseptic hitting your skin making you grit your teeth. Your fingers were swollen, bruised, and two of them were bent at awkward angles, the bones clearly broken.

"It's pretty messed up," Hoffman muttered, inspecting your hand with a grimace. "You're lucky you got out of that trap when you did."

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head slightly. "Yeah. Lucky."

He didn't respond, focused on setting the bones in your fingers with quick, efficient movements that made you wince with each crack. Hoffman wasn't the type to offer comfort, and you didn't expect it. The silence between you both was thick with the weight of what had happened with Amanda. He was just doing his job, patching you up so you could get back to work.

"She's unstable," Hoffman said suddenly, breaking the silence as he wrapped your fingers tightly in gauze. His voice was low, almost like he was speaking more to himself than to you.

You glanced up at him, feeling the sting of the truth in his words. "I know."

Hoffman met your eyes briefly, his expression unreadable. "John won't tolerate it forever."