Chapter 8

Ethan stood in the doorway of the clinic, his bag of supplies slung over his shoulder. Grayson's men were clustered around him, their faces tense. Outside, in the alley, the muffled voices of the attackers echoed off the walls.

Clara—still in her nurse's disguise—stood to the side, her arms crossed, watching the scene unfold. "So," she said calmly, "what's the plan, Doctor?"

Ethan shot her a sharp look. "Plan? I didn't exactly prepare for a gang war today."

Grayson grunted. "You stay here, Doc. My boys and I will deal with this."

"Deal with it how?" Ethan demanded. "You're just going to start shooting in the middle of the market?"

"They came looking for a fight," Grayson said darkly. "We'll give them one."

Ethan's jaw tightened. He hated the violence that surrounded this world, but he didn't have the luxury of idealism. Before he could respond, Clara stepped forward.

"Maybe we don't need a fight," she said, her voice cool. "Why don't we figure out what they want first?"

Grayson snorted. "And who are you, Nurse White? You think these guys are here for a polite chat?"

Clara ignored him, turning to Ethan. "You're the one they're looking for, right? Maybe if you talk to them, we can avoid a bloodbath."

Ethan hesitated. The idea of walking into a potential ambush didn't thrill him, but Clara had a point. If he didn't try, more people could get hurt.

"Fine," he said finally. "I'll go. But if this goes sideways, I'm blaming you."

Clara gave him a faint smirk. "Deal."

The alley outside the clinic was dark and narrow, the faint glow of streetlights casting long shadows on the cracked pavement. A group of five men stood at the far end, their postures aggressive. One of them held a baseball bat, another had a knife glinting in his hand.

"Doc Cross!" the leader called, stepping forward. He was a wiry man with a scar running down his cheek. "We've been hearing all about you. Thought we'd come say hi."

Ethan kept his voice steady. "I'm busy. If you're here for medical treatment, you're going about it the wrong way."

The man chuckled, his companions laughing along with him. "Oh, we're not here for treatment. We're here because your friend Grayson's been getting a little too bold lately. Figured if we put a dent in his pet doctor, it'd send the right message."

Ethan's stomach churned. He glanced at Grayson, who was standing behind him with his hand on his gun. "You really think this is going to solve anything?" Ethan asked. "You kill me, and half this market turns against you."

The leader's smirk faltered slightly, but he shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe they get the message that we're the ones in charge."

Before anyone could move, a voice cut through the tension like a knife.

"Sounds to me like you're making a big mistake."

The group turned to see a man stepping out of the shadows. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with graying hair and a leather jacket that had seen better days. His eyes were sharp, and the way he carried himself screamed authority.

"Who the hell are you?" the leader snarled.

"Ray Carter," the man said casually, his hands in his pockets. "I'm the guy who's going to stop you from doing something stupid."

Ethan blinked in surprise as Ray walked past him, positioning himself between the attackers and the clinic. The leader scoffed.

"What, you think you're some kind of hero?" he sneered. "This doesn't concern you."

Ray's expression didn't change. "You're threatening a doctor. That makes it my business."

The man with the baseball bat stepped forward, pointing it at Ray. "Listen, old man, you don't want to—"

Ray moved faster than anyone expected. His hand shot out, grabbing the bat and twisting it out of the man's grip. In one fluid motion, he swung the bat into the guy's knees, sending him collapsing to the ground with a cry of pain.

The others hesitated, their confidence visibly shaken. Ray tossed the bat aside, his expression calm but deadly.

"You've got two choices," he said evenly. "You can walk away right now, or I can break every one of you before you take a step toward that clinic. Your call."

For a moment, no one moved. Then, the leader cursed under his breath. "This isn't over, Cross," he spat, gesturing for his men to retreat. "You've just made yourself a target."

The group disappeared into the shadows, leaving the alley eerily quiet.

Ethan let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Thanks," he said, turning to Ray. "I don't know who you are, but I appreciate the help."

Ray shrugged. "Saw you were in trouble. Figured I'd lend a hand."

Grayson stepped forward, eyeing Ray suspiciously. "You're not from around here. Why'd you bother getting involved?"

Ray met Grayson's gaze without flinching. "Used to be a cop. Spent years watching people like them run the streets because no one had the guts to stop them. Guess I've still got a thing for justice."

Ethan frowned. "An ex-cop in the underground? That's not exactly common."

Ray smirked. "Let's just say I didn't leave on the best terms with the force."

Clara, who had been quietly observing the exchange, finally spoke. "You're good in a fight," she said. "But this place isn't safe for anyone who sticks their neck out. Why are you really here?"

Ray's smirk faded. "Heard about the Doc. Figured he could use someone watching his back. The underground's no place for someone working alone."

Ethan studied Ray for a moment, then nodded. "If you're serious, we could use the help. But if you're looking for a place to hide, you'll have to earn your keep."

Ray's grin returned. "Don't worry, Doc. I've got your back."