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After My Groom Defended the Woman Who Almost Killed Me Novel Cover

After My Groom Defended the Woman Who Almost Killed Me

The ER at Harborview didn’t smell like antiseptic anymore. It smelled like copper and wet asphalt—the scent of a rainy Tuesday colliding with a pileup on I-5. I moved through the chaos, the familiar thrum of controlled panic settling into my bones. Trauma Bay One was a cacophony of alarms and shouting, a symphony I’d conducted a thousand times. But the sound that cut through the noise wasn't a monitor; it was the wet, sucking gasp of a drowning man. "O2 sats dropping! Sixty-five percent!" I spun toward Bay Two. The curtain was half-drawn, revealing a terrifying tableau. The patient, a middle-aged man from the pileup, was thrashing, his face turning a dusky violet. And standing over him, holding a central line kit with shaking hands, was Valentina Moreno.
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Chapter 2

The rotor blades sliced through the storm clouds like a cleaver through bone, the rhythmic *thwack-thwack-thwack* vibrating in my fillings. Inside the cramped cabin of the medevac chopper, the air smelled of aviation fuel and ozone. I gripped the safety handle, my knuckles white, watching the Cascade Mountains rise like jagged teeth below us.

"ETA five minutes to the landslide site!" the pilot shouted over the comms, fighting the stick as a sudden downdraft slammed us sideways.

Across from me, Colton wasn't looking at the terrain. He was staring at me. His eyes, usually a warm hazel, were flat and hard, reflecting the gray turbulence outside. He unbuckled his harness.

"Sit down, Colton!" I yelled, my voice swallowed by the engine roar. "We're in active turbulence!"

He ignored me. He leaned forward, bracing a hand against the ceiling, looming over the pilot’s shoulder. The helicopter pitched violently. The pilot cursed, fighting for control.

"Turn it around," Colton said. His voice was calm, terrifyingly so, audible only because he was shouting directly into the pilot's headset mic.

"Are you insane?" The pilot’s eyes widened behind his visor. "There are critical patients down there!"

"Turn. Around." Colton grabbed the back of the pilot's seat, shaking it. "Unless Dr. Phillips agrees to rescind that rejection letter right now."

My stomach dropped faster than the chopper. This wasn't just manipulation; this was madness. He was holding an entire rescue mission hostage. He was threatening the lives of the crew, the victims on the ground, and us, just to save face for Valentina.

"Colton, sit down!" I screamed, reaching for him, but the swaying cabin kept me pinned. "You're going to kill us!"

"Say it, Claire!" He turned to me, his face twisted in a snarl I didn't recognize. "Tell him you're tearing up the file. Tell him Valentina gets the fellowship."

The helicopter banked hard to the left, a warning alarm shrieking from the console. The pilot was struggling, sweat beading on his forehead.

I couldn't give in. If I did, patients would die under Valentina’s care. But if I didn't, we might die right here.

My hand slid into my flight suit pocket. I felt the cold glass of my phone. I didn't look down. I just pressed the side button three times—the shortcut for voice memo.

"I am not risking patient safety for your ego, Colton!" I shouted, making sure my voice carried. "Sit down before you crash this bird!"

He glared at me, a vein pulsing in his temple. For a second, I thought he might actually grab the controls. Then, the pilot banked sharp right to correct our course, throwing Colton back into his seat. He scrambled to buckle up, his glare promising retribution.

We touched down on a muddy plateau minutes later. The world outside was a nightmare of sliding earth and fractured timber. Rain lashed my face as I jumped out, grabbing my trauma bag.

Valentina was already there. She’d arrived with the ground transport, standing near a precarious pile of debris that used to be a ranger station. She wasn't triaging. She was arguing with a firefighter.

"I need this area clear!" I barked, limping through the mud. "Valentina, secure the perimeter. That structure is unstable."

She looked at me, her eyes narrowing. "I'm looking for the survivors!"

"You're standing on a load-bearing shift! Move back!"

She scoffed, turning her back to me. She grabbed a splintered beam jutting out from the mud—a support timber for the collapsed roof above her. "I see someone! I'm going in!"

"No!"

She yanked the beam.

A groan of tortured wood echoed through the valley. The pile above her shifted. A massive slab of rock and wet earth began to slide, gathering speed instantly. Valentina screamed, freezing in place.

Colton was there in a heartbeat. He didn't look at the sliding rock. He looked at Valentina. He lunged, grabbing her waist.

He was closer to me than he was to her. He could have pulled us both back. Instead, as he pivoted to shield her, his elbow slammed into my chest. It wasn't an accident. It was a shove. A hard, desperate push to clear space for her.

I stumbled backward, my boots losing traction in the slurry.

The world went dark and heavy.

The impact stole the air from my lungs. Pain, white-hot and blinding, shattered my leg. I was pinned. The crushing weight of a boulder rested on my left tibia, grinding bone against stone. I screamed, but the sound was weak, wet with rain and shock.

Through the haze of agony, I saw them. Colton and Valentina were safe, huddled ten feet away in the mud. He was brushing hair out of her face, checking her for scratches.

"Help..." I rasped, trying to push the rock. It didn't budge.

"My leg!" a voice shrieked nearby. Not mine.

A hiker was trapped under a fallen tree just beyond them. His leg was mangled, blood spurting in the rhythmic, terrifying arcs of an arterial bleed. Valentina scrambled toward him, fumbling with her kit. She pulled out a tourniquet, her hands shaking so badly she dropped it in the mud.

"Artery..." she whimpered. "I can't... I can't see the source."

She stared at the blood, paralyzed. The man was dying.

"Colton!" I screamed, the effort tearing at my throat. "Help him!"

Colton didn't move toward the patient. He moved to Valentina, placing his hands on her shoulders, turning her away from the carnage. "It's okay, Val. Look at me. Just breathe."

"He's bleeding out!" I roared, fighting the black spots dancing in my vision. Pain radiated up my thigh, a sickening throb that threatened to pull me under. I focused on the paramedic rushing toward the hiker. "Apply pressure! High and tight!"

"I can't stop it!" the medic yelled back, panic rising.

"Clamp it!" I gasped, directing him from the ground, my own blood soaking into the earth beneath me. "Reach in! Find the vessel! Clamp it blindly if you have to!"

I watched the medic plunge his hands into the wound, guided by my voice, while my fiancé held another woman, whispering lies into her hair as the rain washed over us all.

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