New Game

The warehouse echoed with muffled screams as Nikolai Zhukov calmly sipped his tea, watching the proceedings with detached interest. The man strapped to the chair before him was a sorry sight—bloodied, bruised, and trembling. But Nikolai felt no pity. In his world, betrayal had consequences.

"I'll ask you one more time, Dmitri," Nikolai said, his voice soft but laced with menace. "Where is the money?"

Dmitri's swollen eyes darted frantically around the room, searching for mercy he wouldn't find. "Please, Mr. Zhukov, I swear I don't know! I didn't take anything!"

Nikolai blew out a deep breath, setting down his teacup with a delicate clink. He leaned back in his chair, adjusted his perfectly straight silk tie, and cleared his throat. Nodding to the burly man standing behind Dmitri, he spoke again. "Igor, perhaps our friend needs some encouragement to jog his memory."

Igor grinned, cracking his knuckles as he moved forward. His massive frame cast a shadow over the trembling Dmitri, who whimpered in anticipation of the pain to come. But before Igor could lay a hand on him, a commotion near the warehouse entrance drew everyone's attention.

The heavy metal door burst open with a resounding clang, revealing two men half-dragging a third between them. Their faces were etched with panic and exertion as they stumbled into the dim light of the warehouse.

Nikolai's eyes widened as he recognized the injured man. "Sergei," he breathed, his usual composure slipping for a moment.

Sergei, one of Nikolai's most trusted lieutenants, hung limply between his comrades. His once-crisp white shirt was now a glistening crimson, saturated with blood that dripped steadily onto the concrete floor.

"Boss!" one of the men called out, his voice cracking with urgency. "Sergei's been shot! The deal went bad. It was an ambush!"

Nikolai's face hardened, his jaw clenching as he strode towards the group. "Alex, report," he barked, addressing the man who had spoken. "What happened?"

Alex swallowed hard, still supporting Sergei's weight. "We arrived at the meeting point as planned, but the Albanians... they were waiting for us. Opened fire before we could even speak. Sergei took two bullets pushing me out of the way."

For a long moment, Nikolai said nothing. The warehouse was silent save for Sergei's labored breathing and the steady drip of blood on concrete. Then, with a growl of frustration, Nikolai slammed his fist into a nearby crate, the wood splintering under the impact.

"Blyat!" he snarled, a rare display of emotion from the usually composed mob boss. "Those Albanian dogs will pay for this betrayal. I want them found, understand? No stone unturned, no hole left unchecked."

His men nodded fearfully, unused to seeing their leader so agitated. Nikolai took a deep breath, visibly pulling himself together. When he spoke again, his voice was calmer, but no less deadly.

"But first, we take care of our own." He turned to Igor, who was watching the scene with barely concealed concern. "Igor, take Sergei to the back room. The one we prepared for... special guests. Make him as comfortable as possible."

Igor nodded, moving to take Sergei's weight from the other men. As he did, Sergei groaned in pain, his eyes fluttering open. "B-boss," he rasped, "I'm sorry... I failed you..."

Nikolai's expression softened slightly. He stepped closer, placing a hand on Sergei's shoulder. "Hush now, old friend. You've never failed me. Rest. We'll fix this."

As Igor carried Sergei away, Nikolai's mind raced. The situation was dire. Sergei needed immediate medical attention, but taking him to a hospital was out of the question. Too many questions, too much risk. Then, like a light bulb flickering to life, he remembered.

A slow, calculating smile spread across Nikolai's face. "Well, well," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "It seems we have a perfect chance to test our new... acquisition."

He turned to Alex, who was still standing nearby, looking lost. "Alexander, I have a job for you. Go to St. Luke's Hospital. Find Dr. Alessia Russo. Tell her..." he paused, considering his words carefully. "Tell her that a friend is in need of her expertise. Bring her here, by any means necessary."

Alex nodded, relief evident on his face at having a clear task. "Yes, boss. Right away."

As the man hurried out, Nikolai's mind drifted to the beautiful doctor he had so recently brought into his fold. He was curious to see how she would handle her first real test. Would she rise to the occasion, or crumble under the pressure? Either way, it promised to be... entertaining.

Nikolai allowed himself a moment to savor the anticipation before turning back to the matter at hand. He fixed his gaze on Dmitri, still bound to the chair and looking more terrified than ever.

"Now then, Dmitri," Nikolai said, his voice silky smooth once more. "Where were we? Ah, yes. You were about to tell us where you've hidden my money."

As Igor returned, cracking his knuckles once more, Dmitri's whimpers filled the warehouse. But Nikolai paid them no mind. His thoughts were already racing ahead, imagining Dr. Russo's reaction when she arrived.

The game was about to become much more interesting.

 

***

 

 

Alessia was just finishing up with a patient when she felt a presence looming behind her. She turned to find one of Nikolai's men—the same mountain of a man she'd seen in the hospital cafeteria—standing there, looking comically out of place in the busy ER.

"Dr. Russo," he rumbled. "You're needed."

Alessia felt a surge of panic and anger. "Are you insane?" she hissed, grabbing his arm and pulling him into an empty exam room. "You can't just show up at my workplace like this!"

The man seemed unfazed by her outburst. "Boss's orders. There's been an incident. Your skills are required."

Alessia ran a hand through her hair, frustration mounting. "I can't just leave in the middle of my shift! I could lose my job!"

"That's not my problem, doctor," the man said flatly. "You made a deal. It's time to honor it."

The reality of her situation came crashing down on Alessia. She had indeed made a deal, and now she was being called to pay up. But that didn't mean she had to like it.

"Fine," she snapped. "Give me five minutes to sign out."

As the man waited outside, Alessia quickly made her excuses to the charge nurse, claiming a family emergency. It wasn't quite a lie; her compliance kept her brother 's care paid for.

Before leaving, she ducked into the staff lounge and grabbed her personal medical bag. Something told her she might need it.

The drive was tense and silent. Alessia's mind raced with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last. What kind of "incident" required her skills? What was she walking into?

As they pulled up to a nondescript warehouse, Alessia's anxiety peaked. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever lay ahead.

Inside, the scene that greeted her was like something out of a movie. Dmitri, still bound to the chair, was limp, his head resting against his chest, crimson stains on the wall behind him. Alessia looked away and concentrated on following the man who had retrieved her from the hospital. As they entered a small, nondescript room, her attention was immediately drawn to the man lying on a makeshift cot, his shirt soaked with blood, his face pale.

Nikolai appeared at her side, his presence both comforting and terrifying. "Ah, Dr. Russo. Thank you for coming so promptly. As you can see, we have a bit of a situation."

Alessia's rushed to the injured man's side, pushing her fear and anger aside as her training kicked in. "What happened?"

"Gunshot wound," Nikolai supplied. "My men say the bullet is still inside."

Alessia's mind reeled. She'd removed plenty of bullets over the years, but in an OR, or at least in a sterile environment with nurses and techs; modern equipment. There was nothing here. "He needs a hospital," she said firmly. "I'm not equipped to—"

"That's not an option," Nikolai cut her off, his tone brooking no argument. "You're all we have, doctor. I suggest you get to work."

Alessia looked around the grimy warehouse, then down at her limited supplies. This was insane. But as she met the injured man's pain-filled eyes, she knew she had no choice.

"I'll do what I can," she said, her voice stronger than she felt. "But I need supplies, and I need space. Everyone out except for you," she pointed to Alex, "I'll need an assistant."

To her surprise, Nikolai nodded. "Get her whatever she asks for." Alessia started calling out supplies in a staccato rhythm. Once she was done, the Bratva boss in yet another perfectly tailored suit, gestured for the others to leave. "If you need anything else, doctor, please don't hesitate to ask," Nickolai instructed. As the rest of the men filed out, he leaned in close to Alessia, his low gravely voice tickling the shell of her ear. "I have faith in you, Alessia. Don't let me down."

Alessia bit her bottom lip and nodded. As soon as she heard the door closed behind him, Alessia turned to her impromptu patient. "What's your name?"

"Sergei," the man grunted through clenched teeth.

"Okay, Sergei," Alessia said, pulling on a pair of gloves. "I'm going to do everything I can to help you. But this is going to hurt. A lot."