Ghosted (Team Zero #3) by Rina Kent

“Firefly.” Julian places a hand on my thigh and I realise I’ve been blabbering like an idiot.

My gaze drifts his way. The front seat is drenched with blood. The red is sickening against the beige leather. Tears soak my cheeks, and I start shaking. He’s going to die.

Julian will fucking die.

He squeezes my thigh as if reading my thoughts. His skin is turning pale, but he appears calm. “It looks a lot worse than it is. There isn’t even a bullet in there. This won’t kill me.”

My lips tremble, and I taste salt. “Give me your word.”

“You have my word. You can’t get rid of me that easily, Firefly.” He smiles. He’s bloody smiling as if it’s a normal occurrence. I don’t know if I want to cry or laugh in bitterness about how wrongly abnormal his life has been.

He motions at the road. “You just have to get me to Le Salon safely, though.”

I give a curt nod, and my grip tightens around the wheel. I drive a bit less dangerously than earlier. My gaze keeps flicking to Julian. He leans against the seat and retrieves his phone.

One call is to send a cleanup crew. Another call is to get a doctor. His doctor, whatever that means.

I divide my attention between him and the road. He’s turning paler, and he’s panting, but his speech sounds normal.

As soon as we arrive at the club, I jump out and swing his door open. Julian tries to get out, but his energy is obviously failing him. I place a hand behind his back and attempt to wrestle him out of the front seat. But he’s too big and heavy. Every second, I’m about to break into tears, but I don’t. Not until I get him to safety. Thankfully, a few guards rush my way and they carry him inside the storehouse.

Blood drips all the way to the entrance. I follow the trail with my stomach twisting into knots.

Gloomy thoughts hover in my mind.

Julian will die.

I shake my head and focus on him.

He’s barely walking and his consciousness is fading. I don’t know much about medicine, but if someone loses consciousness, that’s bad, right?

I’m a sweaty mess when I follow them to the hall. The guards sit him on the bench, but he almost collapses. His breathing is getting heavier.

“Where’s the doctor?” I shout in Vladimir’s stoic face. “He asked you to get a doctor!”

If I knew the doctor wouldn’t be here, I would’ve driven him to a hospital. But he could be in worse danger there. I’m sure the staff would report a gunshot and Julian would end up behind bars.

“I’m here.” A tall man strides from the front door. He’s in a pressed dark blue suit. His hair and eyes are pitch black. There’s no break between the irises and pupils. The unusual sight is freaky. And bloody frightening.

Once Julian’s eyes fall on him, his lips twitch. “Aaron. Long time no see.”

“A few days isn’t long.” The doctor – Aaron – sounds like the most bored human on earth. Like he was dragged out of his holidays for something trivial. “I asked you to call me when there’s some fun. Stitching you and Kyle up isn’t my idea of fun, old man.”

Julian’s lips twitch. “It’s more fun than your boring snobbish life, don’t you think?”

Aaron says nothing. Instead, he reaches into his briefcase and retrieves some medical supplies and cleaners. Despite his obvious disdain, his movements are precise and meticulous.

I stand rooted in place, watching how careless both of them are about this.

“Who is she?” Aaron asks without sparing me a glance. He’s putting on gloves with meticulous care.

“None of your business.” Julian grits out, then grunts when Aaron pokes his wound with a gloved finger. “You little —”

“Bastard!” I finish and I’m in front of Aaron’s face in a second. “What type of doctor are you? Why are you hurting him on purpose?”

His dark eyes fall on me, and now, I wish they hadn’t. They’re so black and devoid of life. It’s like he’s contemplating why he’s letting me live.

Despite the lump lodged in my throat, I keep my stance. I don’t care how scary he is, I won’t allow anyone to hurt Julian.

“I’m looking for a bullet,” Aaron says dryly.

“There isn’t one!” I shout, and Julian smiles a little.

“Is that so?” Aaron asks, but he’s staring at Julian. Then he directs his bored gaze to me. “Help me by remaining silent.”

I’m about to curse him again, but Julian subtly shakes his head. “You don’t have to watch. I’ll be fine. Go upstairs and I’ll be with you in a bit.”

“He won’t die.” Aaron detached tone drifts in the silence.

I want to argue. Poke this Aaron in the ribs or punch him in the face to fix Julian up, but I doubt that my presence will have the opposite effect. I glance at Julian. Once he offers me a reassuring smile, I reluctantly head upstairs.

Autopilot mode is still on as I close the room’s door. I head into the bathroom and lift my shaky palms. They’re bloodied. So is my T-shirt and my shorts. I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My hair is dishevelled, the brown strands dirty. Droplets of blood mar my face.

Julian’s blood.

Julian could’ve died today.

A tremor shoots through my limbs, then I’m shaking all over. My whole body is about to collapse. My gaze falls on the counter. Mine and Julian’s brushes are aligned next to each other. My makeup is scattered amongst his shaving supplies. Our shampoos are facing one another.