Semua Bab Bad Medicine: Bab 1 - Bab 10

Dr. Sienna Blake hated Tuesday night shifts. Not because they were busy—they weren’t. That was the problem. Nothing but quiet corridors, half-lit trauma bays, and the soft, unsettling hum of fluorescent lights overhead. It left her alone with her thoughts, which were often worse than the blood and broken bones.She sat at the nurses' station, sipping stale coffee and flipping through an old patient chart just to stay awake. Her scrub pants were a size too loose, tied tight with a knot she’d retied twice already, and her ponytail was doing its best to fall apart. Still, she looked like she had her life together—because that’s what people expected from a trauma surgeon. Calm. Clean. Controlled.The ER doors slammed open with a bang so loud her coffee jumped out of the cup.“Coming in hot!” a paramedic shouted, wheeling in a gurney that looked like it’d barely survived a warzone.Sienna was on her feet instantly. “Vitals?”“BP’s crashing. GSW to the abdomen. Lost a lot of blood before we

Sienna stared at her phone until the screen dimmed, the photo burning into her brain. Her own silhouette framed in the glow of her living room lamp, taken from outside her building. Someone had been close. Close enough to see her through the sheer curtains she kept drawn at night.She felt sick.The air in her apartment suddenly felt too thin, like she was breathing through a straw.Jax’s voice cut through her panic. “Show me.”She didn’t move.“Sienna.” He stepped closer, his tone more command than request. “Show me.”Her hand shook as she turned the screen toward him. His eyes narrowed at the image, his jaw locking. He took the phone from her without asking and zoomed in, studying the reflection in the glass. “Street level,” he muttered. “They were parked across the road. Probably using a long lens.”“Don’t tell me that,” she said, voice cracking. “Tell me who.”“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”Her arms wrapped around herself before she realized it. “This is insane. This is a

The words hung in the cold air like smoke.Ask him why he really cares about that girl, sweetheart.Sienna’s heart was still racing from the adrenaline, her fingers white-knuckled on the bike seat. “What does he mean?” she called, voice shaking.Jax didn’t answer. He vaulted onto the bike in one smooth motion, grabbed the handlebars, and started the engine with a roar that drowned out everything else.“Jax!” she tried again.“Hold on,” he barked.She did—more because she had no choice than because she wanted to. The bike shot forward, tires spitting gravel as they tore out of the alley. Wind slapped her helmet, the city blurring past in streaks of neon and shadow.She kept replaying that blond man’s smirk in her head, the way he’d said that girl like it meant more than just Emily Reyes.They didn’t stop until they were across the river, the hospital and its questions far behind. Jax pulled the bike into the covered space behind an old brick warehouse. The engine cut out, leaving them

Darkness clung to her like a second skin.It was the kind of darkness that wasn’t just the absence of light, but the absence of time, of certainty, of self. Sienna floated in it, her body heavy, her thoughts fragmented. Snatches of sound seeped through like water through cracks: tires screeching, a man shouting, the muffled thud of fists meeting flesh.And then, silence.When her eyes finally fluttered open, the first thing she saw was the ceiling—peeling paint, water stains blooming across plaster. A light bulb buzzed overhead, too dim to drive the shadows from the corners of the room.Her mouth was dry, her tongue thick. She tried to sit up, but her wrists were tied behind her back, biting into her skin.Panic flared.She wasn’t in her apartment. She wasn’t in the SUV.Where the hell was she?Her chest rose and fell too quickly, shallow and sharp, until the sound of footsteps made her freeze.The door creaked open.And there he was.Jax.Not polished or composed—blood smeared along

The sound of that creak above them sliced the room in half.Sienna froze, heart slamming against her ribs, the incriminating photo still clutched between her fingers. She stared at Jax, wide-eyed, trying to mouth the question that wouldn’t form: What do we do?Jax already had his gun up, jaw tight, body coiled like a predator ready to strike. His eyes flicked toward the ceiling, then back to her.“Stay here,” he mouthed.Her whole body screamed no. Every rational thought she had left told her to run, to bolt out of the apartment and never look back. But she couldn’t make her feet move.Her home—the only place that had ever been hers—suddenly felt like a trap.Jax edged toward the door, movements fluid, silent. Sienna’s breaths came shallow, loud in her own ears. The air itself seemed to thicken, pressing down on her chest.Another creak. This one sharper. Directly above her bedroom.Jax motioned toward the corner. “There’s a crawlspace hatch in the ceiling,” he whispered. “Attic acces