The Burner

Leo rolled the heavy shelving unit aside.

Jian was sitting heavily on the edge of the small cot in the alcove, his head bowed, his breathing ragged. He looked up as the light hit him, his dark eyes locking onto Leo. He had heard every word of the exchange. He knew exactly what Leo had just risked to save his life.

"Let's finish this," Leo said quietly, stepping back into the main clinic area and pulling on a fresh pair of gloves.

Jian walked slowly back to the table and lay down. The atmosphere between them had irrevocably shifted. The aggressive hostility was gone, replaced by a heavy, charged silence.

Leo worked quickly, his hands steady. He located the bullet, a deformed lump of lead, and dropped it into a metal basin with a sharp *clink*. He stitched the muscle, sutured the skin, and applied a tight, sterile dressing over the wound. Jian endured the agonizing process without a sound, his eyes fixed on Leo’s face the entire time.

By the time Leo taped down the final piece of gauze, the faint, gray light of dawn was beginning to filter down through the cracks in the street-level ventilation grate.

"You're done," Leo said, stepping back and pulling off his gloves. "Keep it dry. Take antibiotics. Don't get shot again."

Jian sat up slowly, wincing as his abdominal muscles pulled. He reached for his blood-stained shirt, carefully pulling it over his shoulders to hide the fresh bandages, and then slipped into his ruined leather jacket. He looked remarkably composed for a man who had nearly bled out an hour ago. The alpha presence had returned, but it was quiet now, calculating.

Jian stood up. He towered over Leo, but he didn't use his size to intimidate. Instead, he reached into his jacket pocket.

He didn't pull out handcuffs. He didn't pull out a badge.

Jian withdrew a cheap, black, prepaid burner phone. The casing was smeared with his own dried blood. He set it down gently on the pristine stainless steel tray next to the extracted bullet.

"There's only one number programmed in there," Jian said, his voice a low, rough rumble.

Leo stared at the phone. "What is it?"

"A lifeline," Jian replied, his dark eyes intensely serious. "For when the ghosts in this city finally come for you, Doc."

Jian didn't offer a thank you. The debt between them was too massive, too complicated for simple gratitude. He simply turned and walked heavily toward the stairs.

Leo stood alone in the buzzing fluorescent light of his underground clinic, the smell of bleach and blood still heavy in the air. He listened to the undercover cop's footsteps ascend the stairs and disappear into the waking city.

Slowly, Leo reached out and picked up the bloody burner phone. He thumbed the cracked screen, staring at the blank, black glass. He was left entirely uncertain if the dangerous, alpha detective would eventually return with a strike team to shut his clinic down, or if they had just forged a dark, inescapable alliance in the shadows of the city.

Leo slipped the phone into his pocket, turned off the surgical lights, and went upstairs to sweep up the broken glass.