Chapter 213 ~The Wrong Man to Trust~

Chapter 213 ~The Wrong Man to Trust~
Dominic's POV

Aria resumed working the very next morning, exactly as promised, and having her back on rotation with me turned out to be a genuine pleasure from the first hour of her shift.
I watched her from across the room as she patched up a warrior who'd come in with a badly broken forearm, her hands steady and sure despite how long she'd been away from this kind of work. Her voice was calm and reassuring as she walked the man through what she was doing every step of the way. She didn't seem to be struggling with any of it and watching her settle in that easily let something that had been tensed in my chest relax a bit.
I was still watching her when the front door swung open and Rowan walked in with his arm firmly gripping Tyson's arm as the man walked beside him.
Rowan's face broke into a warm, bright smile the moment his eyes landed on me, and I felt the familiar pull of affection settle over me the way it always did. I returned the smile easily, unable to help myself, before my eyes slowly shifted past him to the man he was escorting.
I'd requested Tyson be brought over so I could finally get Darius's request handled and out of the way, but watching the man stroll through the infirmary doors, his gait far too relaxed for someone who'd spent weeks locked in a holding cell, an unsettling feeling curled tight in my chest that I couldn't quite explain away as simple discomfort at his presence.
Rowan directed Tyson toward one of the more enclosed treatment rooms further into the building, and I followed close behind, mentally running through the list of supplies I'd need to properly assess and treat the damage made to his throat. Then, I made a beeline for the cabinet, gathering everything before starting, wanting this handled efficiently and without unnecessary delay.
Rowan stepped back out of the room just as I was about to enter, catching my hand gently in his before I could pass him.
"Hey," he said, his eyes trailing carefully over my face, studying me the way he always did whenever something seemed even slightly off. "How are you holding up? You don't look like you got enough sleep last night."
He looked so genuinely concerned that for a moment all I could do was smile at him instead of answering right away. Things between us had been going remarkably well these past few weeks, steadier and easier than they'd been and I found myself grateful for it more often than I let myself say out loud.
"Don't worry about me," I told him. "I just got a little preoccupied with something last night. I'll make up for whatever sleep I lost, I promise."
A small frown tugged at his mouth, clearly not fully satisfied with that answer, but he didn't press me further, simply squeezing my hand once before letting it go.
We stepped into the room together and found Tyson already pacing slowly along the far wall, his hands clasped loosely behind his back like he was inspecting the space rather than waiting to be treated. He turned toward us with an easy smile the moment he registered our presence, and the unsettling feeling in my gut returned immediately, stronger this time.
My voice came out cold without my having to try particularly hard for it. "Mr. Tyson, could you please come take a seat."
His brows lifted slightly, and it took him a beat longer than I expected before he responded. "Why am I here?"
I had no interest in indulging a drawn out conversation, but given the sheer size of the man standing in front of me, forcing him into a chair against his will wasn't exactly a realistic option. I needed him to be compliant, not combative, so I answered. "You're injured,"
"Ohhh." He cleared his throat, the sound rough, seemingly painful. "But I've been injured for a while now. Are you people just suddenly remembering that fact today?"
I stayed quiet for a few seconds, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, because it seemed like that was what he was desperately after. Rowan, sensing my discomfort building, stepped forward to smooth things along. "Just take a seat so we can be finished with this," he said, his tone level but firm. "There's no need for all these questions."
Tyson's eyes flicked briefly toward Rowan before settling back on me. He gave a small nod and started forward, closing the distance between us slowly, continuing to walk until he stood only inches away from me and the treatment bed positioned just behind me. He didn't sit right away. He simply stood there, staring at me pointedly, his smile widening slowly across his face.
Then his hand came forward, and somehow, it had gotten hold of a scalpel.
Rowan moved fast, stepping directly between me and whatever danger Tyson intended, but a hoarse laugh filled the room instead, dissolving quickly into a rough, wet cough.
"Relax," Tyson said once he'd recovered enough to speak again. "I just happened to spot it lying around. You people really ought to be more mindful about what you leave within reach of criminals." His eyes glinted with something close to delight the entire time he spoke, like the whole exchange amused him thoroughly.
I frowned deeply, genuinely hoping Darius understood exactly what he was doing, sending a man capable of pulling stunts like this out into the general public.
I patted Rowan's arm gently, signaling him to stand down, and received a deeply worried look in return. Whatever he found in my expression, though, must have offered enough reassurance, because he stepped forward and snatched the scalpel cleanly out of Tyson's hand before falling back into position beside me.
Tyson's laughter dissolved back into quiet amusement as he finally settled himself onto the edge of the bed, making himself comfortable like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. I moved forward and got to work on him without another word, and I made absolutely certain, with every stitch and every press of my fingers against the damaged tissue in his throat, that he felt every bit of it.