Chapter 4 - Debt of Blood
Within two hours, Roman’s private medical team arrived, taking over his care. The lead surgeon was stunned by the field dressing I had applied.
"Whoever stabilized this wound saved his life," the doctor admitted, looking at me with newfound respect. "A millimeter to the left and he would have bled out before we even reached the gates."
I stood near the door of the bedroom, clutching my stained coat, feeling completely out of place amid the flurry of armed men in tailored suits guarding the hallways. Roman was propped up in his bed, color slowly returning to his face as medication took hold.
"Evangeline," he called out softly.
The room went dead silent. His second-in-command, a scar-faced man named Marcus, looked at me in shock—Roman rarely used anyone's first name, let alone a stranger's.
I walked closer to the bed. "You're stable now, Mr. Blackwell. The doctors will handle the rest. I need to get back... I missed my morning shift, and my landlord—"
"You aren't going back to that diner, Evangeline," Roman cut in smoothly, his voice leaving no room for argument.
"I have bills, Mr. Blackwell," I snapped gently, my pride flaring despite my exhaustion. "I live in the real world. I have rent, nursing school tuition, and debts."
Roman gestured to Marcus, who immediately placed a leather briefcase on the table beside my bed and popped the latches. Inside were stacks of hundred-dollar bills—more money than I had ever seen in my life.
"This is one million dollars," Roman said, his dark eyes locked onto mine. "Consider it a small retainer for your services last night."
I looked at the money, then looked back at him, feeling a wave of deep offense.
"I didn't save your life for money," I said quietly, stepping back from the briefcase. "I saved you because a little girl cried on the phone, and because no one should die alone on a cold floor. Keep your cash, Mr. Blackwell."
Roman’s eyes widened in genuine shock. Marcus looked like he had just seen a ghost. Nobody turned down Roman Blackwell. Ever.
"Wait," Roman called out, a strange, fierce heat flickering in his dark gaze as I turned toward the door. "If you won't take my money... then take my protection. You stepped into a war last night, Evangeline. The Morettis know someone saved me. You aren't safe."
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"I’m just a waitress," I whispered.
"Not anymore," Roman replied, his voice heavy with an unspoken vow. "From the moment you saved my life, you became mine to protect."
