004

"Stay away from Wyatt Romano!"

That was the entire message. No further explanation accompanied Jack's warning. With bloodstains on Ruben's clothes and cold, mysterious vibes emanating from Wyatt, Hazel sensed she had to dig deeper. She observed Wyatt hastily leaving the hallway, causing people to bow their heads as he passed by.

"Is he in the mafia or something?" she murmured to herself, leaving those thoughts behind as she continued down the hallway to attend to other patients and finish her day.

"Hey Hazel, how's everything going?" Miss Prez, the head of the pathology department, greeted her.

"Good, Miss Prez. And how about you?"

"Work, work, work, you know how it goes. But I'm happy my husband finally got an opportunity in Seattle. We're moving out," Miss Prez shared, a sense of excitement in her voice.

"And how's your little one?" Hazel asked, knowing that Miss Prez's daughter had a habit of staying up all night and wanting to play.

"Taking her on vacation this weekend." That reminded Hazel that her own house would be empty since her family had gone to an important event in Texas, leaving her alone in this boring town.

"See you," they bid each other farewell and went their separate ways, leaving the hospital building.

As Hazel stood there with a slight frown, she let out a sigh, knowing it would be a long night ahead followed by a day off tomorrow.

"What am I going to do?" Calling Jack wasn't an option. He lived on the other side, while her home was on the opposite end of the hospital. Perhaps she would call him tomorrow to inquire about his health, but for now, she just wanted to call it a day. She tossed her bag on the passenger seat, turned on the engine, scrolled through the playlist she wanted to listen to on her way home, and pressed the gas pedal.

She headed towards her home. Jack was right about this place. The mountains were beautiful, and the evenings had a certain euphoria to them. It was a town that seemed tailor-made for couples, making Hazel feel like the odd one out in her group of friends for not having a boyfriend. In her early twenties and content, Hazel often pondered why she had chosen to wait patiently for the right man, valuing the idea of discovering true and meaningful love. Her train of thought came to a halt when an unknown silhouette ran across the road. Judging by his appearance, he was a male, badly wounded and visibly exhausted. She hit the brakes and swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Oh my god," she looked around, finding no immediate signs of danger. Her trembling hand unlocked the car door, reducing the buzzing noise inside as she absorbed the eerie mountain breeze carrying news of a man lying in the middle of the road. If this were a highway, she might have hesitated, but it was an infrequently used route during the evening hours. She knew she had to take him to the hospital. She stepped out and ran towards him, assessing his condition. He appeared tall enough to tower over her but drained enough not to pose a threat.

"Hello," she gently turned him over, and her senses were alarmed when her eyes met with the sight of crimson liquid. However, her focus remained steady as she saw his heavy cyan-blue eyes blinking at her.

"Mr. Romano, oh my god," she cradled his head in her lap, her hand supporting his neck. Asking him what happened would be futile, but getting him to her car was imperative. It took all her strength to drag him towards the vehicle.

"Mr. Romano, I'm taking you to the hospital," she spoke to him, knowing that engaging with the patient often helped keep them alert and responsive. However, this man seemed to have something else on his mind.

"No, get into the car immediately."

"What?" Perhaps she had misunderstood him. She circled the car, scanning the surroundings. She leaned in closer, observing the wound and realizing it was not caused by an animal but rather a bullet. Their eyes met, and it wasn't that she was afraid of blood, but bullet wounds certainly frightened her.

"We need to... I have to call the cops. You've been shot.” With each passing moment, her composure wavered.

"No, you're taking me your home." What was he talking about?

"Mr. Romano... I..." she turned to face him, only to find the cold barrel of a gun pressed against her forehead. He was indeed a stupid mafioso or whatever, and now she was trapped, saving his life.

"Drive." Silence enveloped the car, her knuckles turning white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. Perhaps speaking in a softer tone would help this foolish man understand something. He needed a doctor, a hospital, and medical equipment to remove those bullets.

"You need a doctor, a hospital," his eyes were heavy, and if he died at this moment, she couldn't fathom a life behind bars. Anxieties pulsed through her mind as she watched him, offering only prayers that he wouldn't die in her care.

"You're a doctor, and I trust you with my life," they reached her home, the distance between the hospital and her house feeling like an eternity. The car entered the garage, and the door closed behind them. She hurried out and went to his side of the car.

"Mr. Romano," he seemed like a tough guy, unaware of the number of bullets lodged in his abdomen and the amount of blood he had lost. Despite it all, he still had enough strength to pin her down with his angry gaze.

"Please, don't die on me." She shifted his arm over her shoulder and helped him out of the car. Stalker, her dog, seemed wary but stayed back, sensing something was off. He slinked back into the house, leaving Hazel to handle the situation alone. She looked around, realizing the house was empty, but allowing a stranger inside was out of the question. She couldn't let him into her parents' room, and certainly not into Eason's room.

"Mr. Romano, please try to walk," she had to assist him upstairs, and the bloodstains on the walls and railing made her nervous and alarmed. What if the police came and found her entangled in a murder case with this psychopath? He dropped his weight onto the mattress and leaned against the headboard. He could barely keep his eyes open as the poison from the bullets worsened. Hazel could sense the pain he was going through, and this would be her first time removing bullets. She removed his shoes and stripped off his half-ripped shirt, soaked in blood.

"Mr. Romano, you've lost a significant amount of blood."

"Please understand, I have to call my superiors," she emphasized, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer.

"You... you will do it."

"You will let no one know about me." It was not a request but a stern warning directed at her. Her eyes flashed with anger, but her focus shifted back to Wyatt as he whimpered in pain from the oozing blood.

She took a deep breath and braced herself for this impossible task. Her mind raced as she ran to gather hot water, bandages, scissors, and whatever supplies she could think of for the impromptu operation. Fortunately, her father's store had a stock of medical supplies that could come in handy. He used to work with an NGO that provided medical aid to the underprivileged.

"Don't die on me, please," she muttered, blowing air out of her cheeks as she heated the tip of the knife. This was not what she had been prepared for. Her hands trembled uncontrollably as she watched over Wyatt.

"I can't do this. It will cause an infection in your body, Mr. Romano. Let me call an ambulance," she pleaded. "Do it, or I will shoot you," he shrieked, his threat shaking her to the core. The sound of his voice caused the dog to burrow into the cushions.

One by one, she carefully removed the bullets, and once the last one was out, Wyatt drifted off to sleep. She wrapped his wound and let out a sigh of relief. Keeping a watchful eye over him was her only option now. She reached for her phone, intending to call the hospital and inform Dimitry about his brother, but the vivid warning from Wyatt resounded in her mind, causing her to stop.

She had met this man just yesterday, and now he was lying in her bed, placing his trust in her to save his life. Fear and anxiety washed over her as she realized that the next few hours would be critical, and she had to closely monitor his condition. Hazel set an alarm on her watch and settled into the rocking chair beside Wyatt's bed. Each ticking second felt like a verdict. If he survived, there would be nothing to worry about, but if he didn't... her eyes widened, and she swallowed hard, thinking of the consequences.

As she studied his features, she realized how his cyan-blue eyes used to complement his tanned complexion. He might have appeared cold-hearted and arrogant before, but now he resembled a sleeping baby in her bed. Her eyelids grew heavy, and she drifted into a deep slumber.

Morning arrived, and a ray of sunlight pierced through the cracks, gently awakening her. She struggled to open her heavy eyelashes, but the dog whined at her feet, wagging its tail in search of food.

"Ugh," Hazel groaned, but reality quickly flooded her mind, and her eyes widened as she remembered Wyatt. Hastily, she got up and surveyed the blood-soaked bandages, alarming enough for her to consider calling for help. However, before she could act on it, she grabbed his wrist to check his pulse, only to find that he was as cold as ice, with barely any discernible heartbeat. Normally, the human body would fight infection and exhibit a high fever, but his condition was the opposite.

"Wyatt," adrenaline surged through her veins as she peeled off the white tape to inspect his bullet wounds. Her eyes widened in astonishment, her face losing color. There were no signs of bullet wounds, just unblemished skin. She couldn't comprehend the rapid healing of his wounds. Was it all a lie? No, because the bullets were still on the tray she had used during the operation. Trembling, she reached for a flashlight, and with a shaky hand, she lifted his eyelids to check for signs of life, hoping to glimpse some truth amid the confusion.

As his eyelids lifted, a pair of welcoming raven-black eyes shimmered back at her, devoid of any trace of his signature cyan color. She fell back to the ground, unable to believe what she was witnessing. It didn't seem human.

Then what was he?

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