Chapter 4 - The Phantom Flames
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It happened at 2:00 AM. I was sitting in a leather chair beside the monitors, reading a medical chart, when the heart rate machine suddenly spiked.
Vincent’s eyes flew open. They were wild, unseeing, completely consumed by terror. He gasped for air, his hands flying to his chest, tearing at the bandages covering his bullet wounds. He thought the heat of the fresh gunshot wounds was the fire returning.
“No! Get it off!” he roared, a sound so broken and violent it made my blood run cold.
The two guards stationed in the hallway rushed in, but they froze, terrified to grab him. They knew touching him would only make the panic worse. He was ripping his own stitches open, fresh blood blooming across the white gauze.
“Everyone out!” I shouted at the guards. “Leave the room! Now!”
They hesitated, but the authority in my voice made them step back. I slammed the door shut. It was just me and the most dangerous man in Chicago.
I didn't rush him. I didn't grab his hands. I stepped into his line of sight, keeping my distance.
“Vincent,” I said, projecting my voice sharply. Loud enough to cut through his panic, but entirely calm. “Look at me. Look at my face.”
He was thrashing, coughing, choking on phantom smoke. “It’s burning! Elena, please!”
“Elena is not here,” I said, stepping one foot closer. “My name is Nora. You are in your penthouse. You are not in the fire. You were shot, and the pain you feel is from the bullets.”
His gray eyes darted frantically around the room until they finally locked onto my face.
“I am going to raise my hands,” I said, slowly bringing my empty palms up. “I need to replace the bandages you just tore. I will not touch you until you tell me I can. You are in control, Vincent. Breathe the air. It’s cold. There is no smoke.”
He stared at me, his chest heaving violently. Slowly, the wild terror in his eyes began to recede, replaced by a raw, agonizing vulnerability. He looked at his bloody hands, then at me.
“Nora,” he whispered, remembering my name from the trauma room.
May you like
“Yes,” I said softly. “May I clean the wounds?”
He swallowed hard, nodding once. The beast was back in its cage, subdued not by force, but by a nurse who simply refused to treat him like a monster.
