The doctor packed his medical bag with quick, clear eagerness to be anywhere but in Tommy and Connor's hideout. His hands shook slightly as he snapped the case closed."The bullet went clean through," he said without looking directly at Tommy, who sat shirtless on the couch, his shoulder and back wrapped in fresh bandages. "No major damage to bone or artery, but you lost a lot of blood. You need rest. At least a week before any—""I don't have a week," Tommy interrupted.The doctor swallowed hard. "If you don't give your body time to heal properly, you risk infection, permanent damage, or—""He said he doesn't have a week," Connor cut in sharply, pulling out a thick envelope of cash and shoving it into the doctor's chest. "You've done your job. Now get out."The doctor nodded quickly, grabbed his bag, and practically fled from their hideout—a dingy apartment in a part of Seattle.The moment the door closed, Connor turned to his brother. "We need to talk about what happens next."Tommy
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