Page 30 of Steel Vengeance
Sloane couldn’t look away. It was like watching a completely different man. The aggression, the barely contained rage that seemed to define him, was gone. In its place was someone calm, focused, and gentle. His hands moved with precision, his tone soft and controlled.
Fatima’s moans quieted, her body relaxing as the pain faded. Her eyes fluttered shut.
“Is she going to be okay?” Sloane whispered, afraid to hear the answer.
“Too soon to tell,” he said, his tone grim.
He lifted Fatima’s skirts, and Sloane quickly looked away, feeling the sudden awkwardness. “Should I wait outside?”
“Can you get me some warm water and a cloth for the blood?” he asked instead, his voice even.
Sloane nodded and hurried out. When she returned with the water and cloth, he was already working, bent over Fatima and stitching her up.
“Whoever did this was a butcher,” he muttered, his eyes focused on the task at hand.
Sloane set the water and cloth beside him. “Will she be okay?”
“She will now,” he said with a sharp nod, his focus never breaking.
“And the baby?” Sloane asked, almost afraid of the answer.
“The baby’s fine. He didn’t get that far, thank God. He just tore her up trying.” He sighed, wiping the blood away with the cloth. “I’ve stopped the bleeding. She’ll be sore, but she’s going to make it.”
Sloane let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “That’s great.”
She watched as he cleaned the area, applied antiseptic, and covered the wounds with gauze dressings. “I’ve given her antibiotics to ward off infection, but she should recover fully.”
Sloane stared at him, feeling a wave of admiration. What he’d done was nothing short of amazing. He’d saved Fatima’s life—and her unborn child’s.
He pulled her skirt back down and packed up his medical supplies. “She needs rest. Someone should take her home.”
“She can’t go home,” Sloane whispered. “It wasn’t her husband’s baby.”
Stitch’s brows shot up in surprise. They both knew what that meant here. Infidelity could get her killed. Honor killings were a grim reality, and going home like this could be a death sentence.
“She can stay here until she’s well enough to move,” Aaliyah said, stepping into the room. She shook Stitch’s hand firmly. “Thank you so much, doctor.”
He gave a curt nod and stood up. “Let’s get her to a bed.”
“Can I help?” Sloane asked as he bent down to lift Fatima.
“No, just lead the way.”
Stitch scooped Fatima up effortlessly, as if she weighed nothing. He followed Sloane down the hallway to a small room at the end. Inside, there was a simple bed, a side table, and a thin wardrobe. A worn rug covered part of the floor.
He laid Fatima gently on the bed.
“Make sure she stays hydrated,” he told Aaliyah. “She’ll be sore for a few days, but as long as she stays off her feet, she’ll be fine.”
Aaliyah nodded, already moving to Fatima’s side. “We’ll take good care of her.”
“Thank you,” Fatima’s friend whispered, her eyes filled with tears as she grabbed Stitch’s hand. “Thank you for saving her.”
"Koi baat nahi,"he replied in Urdu. "You’re welcome."
Sloane walked him to the door.
"That was an amazing thing you did,"Sloane said, a little in awe.