The Doctor

"No! Of course not." 

"Then drive," Zayne demanded. 

Evelyn was still skeptical, glancing between him and the steering wheel. 

"Forget it." He pocketed his phone. "Come out, I'll drive myself—" 

"No, no, I'll do it. You're hurt, you can't drive." 

She frantically shook her head at him. 

"Just give me a second to breathe, okay?" 

He smiled tiredly at her, drawling, "As much as I'd like to give you all the time in the world, I'm not made of steel and I'm going to bleed out. Drive or let me." 

She nodded at him, understanding. 

The car was turned on and carefully reversed before she stepped on the—

A bullet pierced through the window of the car, earning a panicked yelp from her. She pulled the car to an immediate stop, glancing at Zayne. Luckily the bullet had made a burning hole through the glass windows, without hitting either of them. 

She drank her breath as fast as she could, tightly wrapping her trembling fingers around the steering wheel. "We're going to die, oh crap, I'm going to die." 

"No one's dying!" Zayne snapped, balling his tie against the bleeding wound. "Step. On the pedal, Evelyn."

"Okay, okay." She nodded at him, got the car going again, and steered off into the road. "Where is your home? Which way do I go?" 

"Take a left." 

He looked at her. 

"And stop trembling. Keep breathing and stay calm. No one is going to get hurt, not me or you. I won't die this easily, so get me home, do you understand me?"

Evelyn gave a nod. 

"Do you?" 

"Yes, I do. You can see I'm trying. I just want to get you—" 

He hunched over, grunting under his breath. He took out his phone and dialed a number. 

[Mr. Macini?]

"Come to my house, right now. I need you there."

[What's wrong? Are you hurt?]

"A bullet shot. Get there as fast as you can."

[Okay]

"Whose that?" Evelyn asked. 

"My doctor," he grumbled.

She briefly glanced at him. "Are you okay? Do you need—" 

"There, take a turn. That building is mine," Zayne cut her off, palming the bleeding wound. 

Evelyn glanced at the white-painted large manor, sprawling to the sky. She turned the steering wheel, pulling over towards the gate. 

The security didn't hesitate to let her in and she drove over to park in the parking lot. She pressed her head against the steering wheel, drinking in deep breaths and counting in her head to steady the panic overwhelming her. 

Zayne didn't stay around. He broke off his seat belt, getting out of the car. That made her get out as well and hurry towards him, grabbing his arm and throwing it over her shoulder to help him. 

He looked as pale as a ghost. 

His blood was trailing behind them the further they went into the manor. 

She aided him towards the sofa in the foyer, settling him down. But as she turned to get a towel, anything at all, he grabbed her wrist. 

She glanced at him. "Zayne?" 

"Take it off," he said. 

She blinked at him. "Take it off…? What do you mean?" 

"The holsters, the vest, take them off!" 

"Okay. okay." She knelt between his spread legs, beginning to unstrap the holsters. She went for his buttons, popping them open. "Your skin is too cold. I can get you a warm towel before your doctor arrives. At this rate, you might just…" 

The man reached under her chin, grabbing gently and making her look at him. 

"Don't worry, I've been through so much worse. I'm not dying that easily. This is not enough to kill me." 

Evelyn looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. "Are you…used to situations like this? Is that why you can brush it off like it's nothing?" 

"Evelyn—" 

"You got shot. Look at your face, you look like you're an inch away from death and you're telling me this isn't enough to kill—" 

"Mr. Mancini!" a voice bellowed. 

They turned their heads. 

A woman stood at the door, dressed in a pair of jeans and a shirt. Her blonde hair was in a ponytail, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. 

She crossed gazes with her, and she wasn't sure if she'd hallucinated it, but the lady glared at her, before storming over and dropping the bag she came with. 

Evelyn stared up at her, parting her lips. "He's not in a good—" 

The lady grasped her wrist, so tight, she wondered how a woman of her size could even have this type of strength. Her face scrunched in a grimace and she hissed, shooting her a confused look. 

"What are you doing?" she bit out. "Let go of me. That hurts!" 

"How dare you touch him?" 

The lady equally glared at her. 

"Do you even know—" 

A pair of thick fingers wrapped around her wrist, tight and crushing and she looked over to Zayne whose expression had gone completely cold and unfeeling. 

"Take your hand off her, Siena," he demanded, warning in his eyes. "NOW."