Chapter 23

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t he stench of booze, that cheap, rotgut whiskey he always drank, hit me before the bastard even stepped through the door. The heavy thud of his boots on the floor made my heart pound in my chest. I already knew what was coming.

My old man stumbled in, drunk as a skunk, reeking of booze and looking for a reason to fuck someone up. He was always like this after hitting the bar, ready to unleash hell on whoever happened to be standing there.

This time, it was because dinner wasn’t on the table. Mom had been working late, busting her ass to make ends meet, but that didn’t mean shit to him. He grabbed her by the hair, dragging her across the room as she screamed and pleaded.

I couldn’t just stand there like a goddamn coward. I was a dumb, reckless little shit, thinking I could do something to protect her. So, I jumped on his back, pounding my fists against his drunken, stinking frame.

He didn’t give a fuck about my hero act... He just saw another target. And that just pissed him off even more.

“Get off, you little shit!” my father roared, throwing me off like a rag doll.

Pain exploded through my head, my vision swimming as I tried to stay on my feet.

“Look who’s all grown up and brave now,” he sneered, turning his attention to me.

His eyes were bloodshot, glazed over with booze and madness. “You want a piece of this too, huh?”

He didn’t hold back, raining down blows on me with his meaty fists. I could taste blood in my mouth, feel the bruises blooming across my skin. But I didn’t care. All I could think about was Mom, cowering in the corner, sobbing her heart out.

“Please, Tony, stop it! Please!” she pleaded, but he didn’t give a flying fuck. He never did.

He was on a rampage, fueled by whatever the fuck demons possessed him that night.

Mom was screaming now, begging him to stop, but to him, I wasn’t even his kid anymore—I was just another target to take out his bullshit on. Another fucking obstacle.

“Leave her alone, Dad!” I shouted, barely able to stand.

But he was quicker, stronger and I was old enough to know when shit wasn’t right, but still young as fuck to do anything about it.

His fist connected with my jaw like a freight train, sending me sprawling across the filthy linoleum floor. The taste of blood flooded my mouth, metallic and hot, but I forced myself back to my feet, fists up, ready to tear this fucker apart.

I staggered back to my feet, fists clenched, ready to kill the bastard. But he was on me again, raining blows down on me like a hailstorm. I could barely see through the blood and tears, but I kept swinging, fueled by pure rage and desperation.

“Get out of here, sweetheart!” Mom was shouting, but I couldn’t leave her.

I wouldn’t leave her.

I scrambled up, blood dripping from my split lip, and launch myself at him. We grappled like wild animals, fists flying, curses spewing from both our mouths.

For a moment, I thought I might actually have the upper hand. But then he got a lucky shot in, his fist connecting with my gut so hard I couldn’t breathe.

It felt like hours, but it was probably only fucking minutes. In the end, he finally stopped. Not out of mercy, but out of exhaustion.

“Pathetic,” he spat, kicking me one more time hard in the ribs, sending me crashing into the coffee table.

I heard the wood splinter under me, shards stabbing into my skin. I tried to move, but I couldn’t. Every inch of me was screaming in pain.

Through the haze, I saw him looming over Mom, a sick smile twisting his face.

I tried to fight back, goddamn it, I tried. But it all went dark. The pain faded into nothingness as I slipped into unconsciousness, the last thing I heard being my mother’s screams echoing in my ears.

Another fucking night.

Another trip down memory lane.

That nightmare had its claws in me again, dragging me back to hell, drowning me in memories I wanted to burn to ash. But you can’t burn what’s carved into your soul like graffiti on a wall.

I bolted upright, sweat soaking through my shirt. I ran a hand through my hair, fingers trembling with anger and frustration. It was the same goddamn shit every night—replaying that scene over and over again. Mom’s tear-streaked face, Dad’s drunken rage, the sound of fists meeting flesh—it was all too fucking real. I wanted to punch something, anything, just to vent this rage boiling inside me.

I swung my legs over the side of the bunk, the shitty metal frame creaking beneath my weight. My hands clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms until I felt the sharp sting of blood.

I knew I had to get the fuck out of my room before I punched a hole in the wall so I grabbed my combat boots and yanked them on, the laces snapping tight against my ankles. The familiar weight of my dog tags against my chest was both comforting and suffocating.

I stormed out of the room, not giving a shit about the late hour or the bullshit curfew. The base was eerily fucking quiet, the only sound the distant hum of generators and the occasional hoot of an owl.

Where the hell was I going?

Viper popped into my head—laid up in the med bay with his busted leg, probably bored out of his mind. Figured I’d drop by, shoot the shit with him, anything to stop my brain from going full psycho after that nightmare.

I made my way through the maze of corridors, the cold air of the base chilling the sweat on my skin. Finally, I reached the med bay, the sterile smell of antiseptic hitting me like a slap in the face as I pushed open the door.

And there was Viper, sprawled out on one of those shitty white beds, looking like death warmed over. I snorted at the sight.

“Hey, asshole,” I greeted him, trying to sound casual. “How’s it hanging?”

He grinned up at me even in his sorry state. “Bored as hell, but I’ll live. What brings you here, man? Looking for some action?”

I shrugged, trying to shake off the tension that had been gripping me since that nightmare. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d come bother your sorry ass.”

Before Viper could reply, my eyes fell on her—Red. She was standing at the far end of the room, her back turned to me as she scribbled something on a clipboard.

And here I was, caught off guard like a clueless idiot.

“Doc,” I greeted her, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice, like seeing her there wasn’t throwing me for a loop.

“Lieutenant,” she replied cooly, barely looking at me before going back to whatever bullshit paperwork she was pretending to be so into.

Shit. This was awkward as hell.

I cleared my throat, my voice gruff. “What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to figure out why the hell she was still hanging around this place. “Thought you were done for the day.”

She glanced up from her clipboard, her eyes meeting mine for a split second before she looked away, busying herself with some bullshit paperwork.

“We’re short-staffed,” she replied curtly, her eyes flickering over me before returning to her clipboard. “So, I’m pulling some extra hours.”

I frowned, the silence stretching between us like a live wire. I watched her hustle around the room, tending to patients like a goddamn angel of mercy, and my mind, goddammit, it went straight to that worthless piece of shit.

“Where’s that dickhead?” I asked, referring to her ex. “Shouldn’t he be here doing his damn job?”

Smooth, Rogue. Real smooth.

Couldn’t stand the thought of her being anywhere near that bastard. I stepped closer to her, my hand reaching out to lift her chin from the clipboard she was gripping tightly.

Red’s jaw tightened, a muscle ticking in her cheek, knowing exactly what I meant.

“He had to perform an urgent surgery,” she said shortly, sounding tired as hell. “Left me with the nurses to look after the patients.”

It pissed me off to no end, thinking about her dealing with all this crap, especially after what that dickhead put her through.

Those green eyes, goddamn it, they were like drowning in fire and ice at the same time.

For a second, I forgot how to breathe.

Fuck, I shouldn’t care.

But I needed to know.

“Did that fucker lay a hand on you?” I growled, my fingers tightening slightly on her chin.

I remembered the bruises, those goddamn bruises she tried to hide like they didn’t mean anything.

“No,” she replied quickly, almost too fucking quickly, her eyes holding mine. “He hasn’t.”

I wanted to believe her. Fuck, I needed to believe her. But the way she used to flinch at his touch, the haunted look she carried—it was all burned into my mind like a scar I couldn’t shake.

“Would you fucking tell me if he did?” I pressed, my fingers still gripping her chin, almost bruisingly tight.

I couldn’t look away, even if I wanted to. And fuck knows I didn’t want to.

There was a moment, just a heartbeat, where I swear the air crackled between us. I could feel the heat of her breath on my skin, the scent of her—citrus and something wild, something untamed.

Fuck, this woman. She made me feel things I thought I was done with. Made me want shit I shouldn’t even be thinking about.

Red opened her mouth to respond, and that was when the universe decided to be a cruel bitch. Before she could say shit, some asshole patient let out a scream like his leg just got hacked off.

Perfect timing like always.

My hand dropped from her chin as we both turned towards the source of that scream.

Viper.

His leg was torn open, blood gushing like a fucking geyser. His stitches were shredded, and the wound looked like it was about to bleed him dry like a sacrificial lamb.

Red was already moving, calling for nurses. But, shocker, none showed up. Probably busy dealing with other half-dead bastards. So, it was just me and her, the only two idiots who gave enough of a shit to do anything.

Fucking typical.

“F—fuck, it hurts,” Viper gasped out between clenched teeth.

“Hold him down,” I heard Red behind me. “We need to stabilize him before we can do anything else.”

“Got it,” I grunted, my muscles straining against his frantic movements.

She was next to me in a heartbeat, her scrubs swishing against me as she crouched by his leg.

“What the hell?” she muttered, more to herself than to me, her fingers probing the wound. “His sutures didn’t hold.”

We both dove in, grabbing whatever the hell we could find, makeshift bandages, towels, anything to staunch the flow of blood.

“Tell me what to do,” I blurted out, feeling utterly useless as tits on a bull.

“Apply pressure on the wound,” she barked, her hands moving fast as lightning, trying to patch up the disaster in front of her.

I pressed down on Viper’s leg with all the force I had, feeling the blood seeping through my fingers like water through a sieve.

“Come on, you bastard,” I muttered through gritted teeth, my hands slipping from the sheer amount of blood.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Red cursed, her eyes scanning Viper’s torn flesh.

She grabbed a nearby suture kit, her hands shaking as she attempted to reinforce the stitches. But it was like trying to stop a flood with a damn paper towel.

“It’s not working, Doc,” I practically shouted, watching in real-time as the situation spiraled down the toilet.

“We need Tranexamic Acid,” she breathed out, wiping the sweat from her brow.

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. “Where is it?” I shouted, scanning the room like a maniac.

Her eyes darted around the room until they landed on a locker, and I was off like a bullet. I ripped the thing open, praying to whoever was listening that the shit we needed was in there.

Thank fuck, there it was. I grabbed the vial of TXA, and I rushed back to Red, who was already prepping a syringe.

I thrusted the damn thing into her palm and she took it from me, her hands steady as she drew up the dose.

“Here goes nothing,” she murmured as she positioned the needle against his skin.

I grabbed Viper’s shoulders, pinning him down as Red plunged the needle into his vein. He jerked, his body tense as hell.

“Come on, you motherfucker, work!” she hissed, her brow furrowed in concentration and we watched the medication flowed into his veins.

Holy fucking shit.

Things just went from bad to worse in the blink of an eye. Instead of the bleeding slowing the fuck down, it seemed like it was picking up speed, like a river breaking its banks.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go down.

Red’s face went from determined to terrified, her hand trembling as she pulled the needle out of Viper’s arm.

“What the fuck?!” she screamed, her voice cracking as she looked at me like I was supposed to pull some miracle out of my ass. “I don’t understand. It should’ve worked.”

“How the hell would I know?” I snapped, my hands balling into fists. “You’re the medic here!”

We were clueless as fuck, staring at Viper like a couple of dumbasses at a math test.

But before we could figure out our next move, the door to the med bay swung open with a loud bang, and in walked Dr. Jackass, tall and imposing, with a look on his face that could curdle milk.

His eyes scanned the chaotic scene, taking in the blood-soaked bandages, the vial of Tranexamic Acid lying discarded on the floor, and Red looking like she was about to break.

“What the hell is going on here?” Dr. Shit-for-brains demanded, his voice like ice.

I could feel my blood pressure skyrocketing, my fists clenching so hard my nails dug into my palms.

“Viper’s bleeding out, you fucking idiot!” I snapped at him, not giving a shit about his authority.

“Dr. Davis, what the hell did you do?” he fired at Red, his eyes bouncing between us like he was already looking to pin the blame.

Her mouth dropped, her hands trembling as she tried to stem the flow of blood.

“I—I don’t know," she stammered, gesturing helplessly at the bleeding mess on the bed. “I injected the Tranexamic Acid, but it’s not working!”

Dr. Shithead’s eyes widened in shock, and for a moment, I thought he might actually do something useful.

“Step back, both of you!” he ordered, his eyes flashing with anger as he pushed past us like he was king of the goddamn castle.

Red hesitated for a second, but then she nodded, taking a shaky step away from Viper’s bed. But my blood was boiling hotter than a volcano, ready to explode right in that smug asshole’s face.

“Like hell,” I spat, stepping between Red and her ex.

But she grabbed my arm, her fingers digging into my skin like she was afraid I’d do something stupid.

"Rogue, don’t," she whispered, her eyes pleading with me.

I wanted nothing more than to bash that douchebag’s skull in, but Viper was lying there, bleeding his guts out, and we weren’t doing shit to help him.

Reluctantly, I took a step back, hating every second of it, feeling like a fucking idiot standing there with my dick in my hand.

Dr. Asshole leaned over Viper’s bed. He muttered something under his breath, his hands moving in a blur as he inspected the wound.

“Let the professionals handle this,” he said, like he was some kind of hero.

I scoffed, my anger reaching new heights. “Professionals? You mean your sorry ass?” I retorted, my fists itching to throw a punch.

“Yeah, that’s right,” said that low-life piece of shit, his voice deadly calm. “Now get the fuck out of my way.”

Red tugged on my arm again, her grip surprisingly strong. “Come on, Rogue, let’s go,” she whispered, her voice pleading with me to let it go.

I ground my teeth so hard I thought I might break a molar.

Fuck me, as much as I wanted to tell her to shove it, I couldn’t. I complied, because as much as I wanted to deck that asshole, I knew Viper’s life was on the line.

Red was right. Now wasn’t the time for a bigger dick contest.

God, it pissed me off, how easily she could manipulate me.

I couldn’t deny the sinking feeling in my gut—Viper needed help. It wasn’t about ego anymore; it was about survival. So I told myself that he was in a life and death situation, although deep down, I knew it was because I couldn’t bear to see the fear in Red’s eyes.

I swallowed my pride like a bitter pill and followed her out, knowing that I couldn’t refuse her even if I wanted to.

And that was the last nail in the coffin of my damn sanity.