Chapter Two

(Ash’s POV)

The first thing I felt was the sting. A raw, burning pain that crawled from my shoulder down to my arm. The smell of the antiseptic hit me hard as I tried to process my environment. It was nothing like the stale prison air I was used to or the smoke I had just come out of. It smelt… clean.

I blinked, vision hazy until the ceiling above me finally stayed in one place. It was white and too bright.

“Don’t move,” a voice said beside me. Calm, clipped, but definitely upset about something. “You’ll rip the stitches apart.”

“Stiches?” I turned my head and my eyes fell on the tall man from earlier. His eyes were the color of storm clouds and he looked like he belonged in a quiet world, not the kind I came from. His sleeves were rolled up and his gloves stained with my blood, but steady as he worked.

“Where am I?” My voice came out rough, like gravel.

“My clinic.” His jaw tightened as he wiped his hands. “You passed out on my doorstep bleeding like a stuck pig. What were you expecting? A hotel?”

I tried to sit up, but the pain shot through me so fast I hissed. “Take it easy,” he said reluctantly, pressing me back gently. His touch was careful, like he was scared I’d break and it caused a tinge on my end. “You’re lucky the bullet went clean through.”

“Did you call the cops?” I asked. My voice sharpened, even though I was barely holding on.

He paused. “No. But I should have. Guys like you usually bring them with you.”

I smirked. “Guys like me?”

“Leather, tattoos… gunshot wound,” he said dryly. “You scream of trouble.”

He wasn’t wrong. “And you don't want any of that?”

“Name’s Ash,” I muttered when he didn't reply and finally regretted it. Where were we? Tenth grade? I was watching him move around the small room tending to my wounds with precision. 

 “Noah.” He finally said, not looking up. 

“Thanks, Noah.” 

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “You’re still bleeding on my table, and you probably just dragged a war to my door.”

He wasn’t wrong about that but I didn't want to go down that path yet so I stayed quiet instead. Heavy silence stretched between us, the only sound was the soft rip of tape as he fixed the bandage. His hands were warm against my skin, steady and professional. It had been a long time since anyone touched me like that… with care.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” he said finally, stepping back. “Whatever life you’re running from, take it somewhere else. I’ve seen what your kind leaves behind.”

I studied him for a moment. Tired eyes and a strong heart. The man looked like he'd seen too much and built walls around himself because of it.

“I didn't have a choice,” I said. “It was here or the gutter.”

He sighed, like he wanted to argue but didn’t have the strength. “You’ll live. Don’t move too much, keep it clean, and don’t play hero.” He said, completely ignoring my precious comment.

I gave a small nod. “Not planning to.”

But we both knew that was a lie. He turned away to wash his hands again and the muscles in his back tensed under the fabric of his shirt. Something about him drew me in, not just the face but the way he moved, careful and strong, like a man holding his world together with his bare hands.

“Do you always take in strangers?” I asked.

“No,” he said simply. “Only the ones too strongwilled to just die.” He concluded and his sarcasm made me smile.

When he finally turned, his eyes softened a little..

“You should rest. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”

I wanted to tell him I didn’t rest well anywhere, but instead, I just lay back and closed my eyes and for the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel like I had to keep my guard up.

………..

I woke sometime in the night to find him sitting at the small desk near the bed, working on papers. A lamp threw gold light over his face. He looked younger and softsitting there under the light.

He noticed me watching and raised an eyebrow. “You’re awake? Good. I thought I’d have to keep you here till morning.”

“You don’t like company, huh?”

He gave a short laugh. “I don't like any company that bleeds on my floor.”

I chuckled, and the sound came out rough.

“You got a sharp mouth for a doctor.”

He turned back to his papers. “And you’ve got a loud mouth for a man who just got shot. If you do not have a death wish, shut up before I send you to an early grave.”

I chuckled softly and snuggled a little. We sat in silence again but it wasn't uncomfortable, though. It was… something else. Something that buzzed under the surface, like static in the air.

My eyes drifted to his hands. He had long fingers, clean nails… classic med hands. Mine were scarred, stained with blood and dirt… and sin.

“Why do you hate us so much?” I asked quietly.

He froze. Then, without looking at me, he said, “Because the club ruined my life.”

“ You don't look ruined to me though.”

I waited for him to say more, but he didn’t say it, and I didn’t push either. I knew that tone, I used to speak in it too and I didn't want to push.

Eventually, he stood. “Get some rest, Ash. You leave before sunrise. No one needs to know you were here.”

“Right,” I said softly.

But as he walked away, I caught his gaze for a second and there was something there. I didn't know if it was curiosity or pity or even something else. But whatever it was, it pulled at me.

I laid awake long after he turned off the light and the silence felt strange. My body ached, but my chest ached more not from the wound, but from something I hadn’t felt in years. It was almost like I had betrayed my vow at the fight. 

When dawn started to break, I got up quietly. My jacket hung on the chair beside the bed, cleaned and folded and that made me smile.vHe didn’t trust me, but he cared enough to do that for me. I slipped it on carefully, trying not to wake him. He was sleeping on the couch, one arm over his eyes, hair messy and shirt wrinkled. I wanted to thank him but I knew words wouldn’t cover it.

So I just left.

Outside, the air was cold and fresh. My bike waited where I’d left it, gleaming under the morning light. I climbed on and rode off before the sun emerged and gave me away. But as I hit the road, I kept seeing his face… those eyes and that calm voice..

Noah. The man felt like such a mystery. He had admitted he hated my life but still treated my wound. 

How the bikers had ruined his life was something I didn't know but something I swore I would… Eventually.   

The man who hated everything I was had slowly crawled into my head, and I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

“See you soon, Mr Doctor.”I whispered, determined to return. Not as a patient this time but as a hunter, digging out the truth even in the most unlikely places.