Submitting To The Devil - The Devil's Snare - Book 2

Chapter Sixty Six

Niko

Mopelli rushes to Sven, his heart racing as he conducts the essential primary checks. His gaze zeroes in on an injection site on Sven's arm—stark evidence of something troubling.

While Mopelli suspects that the brutal beating Sven endured might have left him feeling dazed and disoriented, he can't shake the unsettling feeling that it's more than just that. There's an eerie stillness about Sven, a profound non-responsiveness that hints at something deeper lurking beneath the surface of his veins. He was drugged, and he believes that was to cause him to either not remember the beating or to slow us down in going after Bianca.

"You next," he orders, his tone leaving no room for dissent as he gestures for me to settle into the worn armchair nestled in the dim corner of the room. The fabric feels rough against my skin, a stark contrast to the throbbing pain beneath the bandages. With deliberate care, he pulls back the soft gauze that Sven had wrapped around my wound, exposing the delicate stitches and raw skin for inspection. His eyes narrow as he examines his handiwork, a mix of concern and scrutiny etched across his features. "Who did this?" he probes, the urgency in his voice heightening my anxiety.

"Sven...," I reply, a hint of hesitation in my tone as I point out the exit wounds on my back, the memory of the pain still fresh and vivid.

"Are there any other symptoms?" he inquired, his voice steady as he wrapped the blood pressure cuff around my bicep, the cool fabric tightening snugly against my skin. With focused attention, he moved next to my eyes, examining them with an intensity that reminded me of how he had treated Sven.

I hesitated for a moment, feeling a flicker of discomfort before responding. "I've been experiencing some sharp pain in my chest," I admitted, forcing a casual tone. "But I'm fine."

"Any trauma to your ribs?" his eyes flick up to mine, his fingers pressing along my ribs on both sides.

"Nothing," I reply, shaking my head with a sense of frustration that only deepens my pain.

He glances at the monitor displaying my vital signs. "Your blood pressure's a bit elevated, but that could just be a reaction to the stress and pain you're experiencing. Can you tell me what type of bullet it was?"

"Rifle, I presume. Maybe a 7 mm," I mutter, my voice strained and laced with urgency.

He furrows his brow, clearly weighing the implications. "There could be a lot of internal damage we can't see. You really need X-rays."

"I need to find my wife," I insist, my voice sharp with annoyance. "Just give me something for the pain so I can get going," I hiss, the words tearing from me as I wrestle with the throbbing agony that courses through every fibre of my being.

"I'll administer a shot of morphine, but you should know it won't carry you through the day. I don't have any Oramorph available for you to take along on the job, even though that would probably be the preferred treatment. However, I have these strong codeines."

"Double it up then; I'm sure it will carry me longer," I insisted, a determined glint in my eyes.

"I can't; it'll send you into a deep sleep, Niko," came his cautious reply.

"Alright, just one dose it is. I'll manage the pain when it comes back around," I conceded, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

"Are you on the hunt for an elusive high again?" Luca's playful taunt echoes through the room as he strides into the dimly lit bedroom, flanked by Mass, who follows closely behind with an air of quiet confidence. The soft glow of the light illuminates them, casting shadows that dance around them, amplifying the charged atmosphere between us.