Secret Crown

V. Five

Scarlett Continued

I had no other choice but to agree. My mother was waiting for me back home, and I would do anything if it meant I had a slim chance of going back home to her tonight. The elderly man squatted down to my level and brandished a knife from the inner pocket of his suit. In one quick glide, he cut off the white ties that bound my hands and feet. His dark eyes met mine, and he smiled. "Sei Bellissima, e ben educata (you are very beautiful and well educated); my nephew would like you," he grinned. "Tell me, what is your name?" he asked as he placed the tip of the knife under my chin and used it to lift it up to meet his gaze. He turned my head sideways, studying my facial features like an item on a shelf that he was considering purchasing: "We can get rid of the capelli rossi (red hair) and switch it to black; it'd make you more suitable." My body was shaking with fear as I couldn't bring myself to answer his question as he continued studying me. "What is your name? he yelled impatiently.

"Scarlett!" I whimpered, "My name is Scarlett."

"That's a good girl," he grinned as he removed the knife from under my chin. "My name is Salvatore Romano, consigliere to my nephew Luca Romano, the man whose life you are about to save." He rose back onto his feet as he held out his hand for me to take. I rose up with his assistance. "You and this other man will have everything you need once you enter that room," he explained as he pointed to Jonas and me. "Prep and garb up," he ordered. As he walked away from us. Jonas and I looked at each other, dumbfounded. "We need to get out of here, Scar," he whispered.

"And run off where, Jonas? I whispered back as I began washing my hands like I would when preparing for surgery. "Have you seen all the guards roaming these grounds right now? We'd never make it out alive," I whispered.

"Then what the hell are we to do? Jonas whined. "Save whoever the hell is behind those curtains," I replied, "and pray that they don't kill us afterwards." I lifted my knee from the sink's knee button. Jonas and I quickly put on the surgical gowns and masks that Salvatore's men had left for us on a metal table. Everything we had been doing and wearing was questionable, and if someone saw us, they would automatically report us to the medical board, but we had no other choice. We exchanged a nervous glance and took a deep breath as we walked the final steps through the plastic tarps. As we stepped inside the makeshift operating room, there lay a man on a metal slab, the man they called Luca Romano. Luca was already hooked up to different monitors and had a handful of IVs flowing through his veins. "My name is Antonio, and I am the anesthesiologist that will be assisting you in taking care of Mr. Romano," a man seated at the head of Luca greeted us. He then began reading us his vitals and giving us the rundown on his condition.

Luca Romano
Age: 31
Sex: male, Italian
Blood Type: AB+
No underlying conditions, allergies, or past surgical intervention
current situation: GSW (gunshot wound) to the chest. Lodged below his lower left lung. The lung was missed by inches.
plan for stabilization and will make it out unscathed if the bullet is successfully removed and the body is treated for any infection.

I was the one who led the surgery since that particular area was near my expertise. Jonas and I were sweating profusely from the pressure and the heat. We had to save him, or we'd die. And even if we saved him, our lives were not guaranteed. After two hours of careful, tedious work, we finally wrapped up the surgery by removing the bullet in one piece and suturing the wound back up. I gave Antonio some instructions on the aftercare needed for him to regain full strength. Antonio smiled behind his protective goggles and left the room. He came back moments later with Luca's uncle, Salvatore. "How is my nephew?" He asked, his voice tensed and concerned as he looked down at Luca, still fast asleep. "He is stable and will make a 100% recovery with proper care and rest." I swallowed hard and nervously looked down at Luca's face. He was a handsome man, tall, lean, and built. He had a tattoo on his chest in old English that read Romano in big letters with praying hands at the center of his chest. His body was pale from all the blood he had lost from the gunshot wound but was slowly regaining its color.