Sin of Silence (Sinner's Empire #1) - Nikita Slater Page 0,7

water, and a splint, I think, for his arm.” She would have to make do with a quick field fix and then hope that her captors would eventually allow her to get the man to a hospital.

“He won’t survive long without a hospital though… if your intention is that he should live.” She eyed the man towering over her skeptically. “If I’m correct, then he’s had a massive cardiac event and will likely need open heart surgery, which can’t be done in a dirty basement with no equipment.”

He didn’t answer, instead turning to stride away, going back up the stairs to the floor above, she assumed to find the supplies she’d requested. Shaun climbed to her feet and took a quick inventory of the basement. Dirt floor, stone walls, two windows, both tiny with bars covering them, no other doors besides the one at the top of the stairs. She reached over her head to try the bars on the window anyway. If she could pull the grate off, she might be able to crawl through the window. It was small, but Shaun was thin. Small breasts, no hips, nothing to get in the way. For once, Shaun was happy with her less than curvy figure.

The grate proved impossible to move though, and all she managed to do was knock a pile of dust from the sill into her face. She coughed and stepped away from the wall, waving at the dust in the air. She ran to the other window and tried again. She pulled as hard as she could, hard enough that her fingers ached with the effort, but nothing moved. She stepped back, shaking her head in despair. She had to get out; her life depended on it.

A groan drew her attention and she turned around to see her patient stirring. He moaned pitiably and moved his unbroken arm. Shaun went to his side and sank down on the floor next to him.

“I’m a doctor,” she said clearly, trying to keep the tremor of fear from her voice. “I’m going to help you.”

He made another sound but didn’t turn his head at her voice. She couldn’t tell how alert he was. “Can you tell me where it hurts the most?” she asked, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

She wasn’t sure if or how he would answer, but after a moment he raised his good arm off the floor and slid it into the front of his torn suit jacket, placing it over his chest. She slid her hand on top of his and felt around his ribcage. Broken ribs. Those would hurt like a bitch and make each breath he took feel like he was swallowing fire.

“Okay, I think you have a few broken ribs, but they don’t seem to have punctured your lungs. Which is good news, even if it hurts like a son-of-a-bitch.” He blinked one eye open and tried to focus on her face. The other was swollen shut. “It’s a good sign that you can hear me,” she assured him.

She examined him slowly, one section of his body at a time, cataloguing injuries. What she came up with was a horrifying map of vicious intent. He had a broken arm, several contusions to the head, abrasions to his face and most of his body. A broken nose, four broken fingers, a few broken ribs. Nothing life threatening unless he had an internal injury. It must be his heart. Probably couldn’t take the sustained beating it looked like he was given.

The blue tint to his face and lips, along with his shallow, pained breaths worried her. If he didn’t get immediate help, he was going to die. Given the extent of injuries, she was surprised he’d lived this long. There was no bleeding outside the body, which was helping him stay alive. The people who had done this to him knew exactly what they were doing, where to hit him without killing him. Too bad they hadn’t counted on a weak heart.

A bucket hit the ground next to her, making her jump. Water sloshed out the side, splashing her. There was a big foot in a leather boot next to the bucket. She followed it up, past denim-clad legs, to a belt, and a leather coat. His hands were hanging down, one close enough to her face that she could see the detailed tattoos covering the back of it. There were words on each finger, but she didn’t know what they said, and