“Right there,” he murmured, his voice low, almost a whispermeant only for me. “Good. Keep it steady, Doctor Volkov. Don't rush.”
I nodded, but my pulse betrayed me, hammering in my ears. I knew he wasn't touching me to provoke anything — he was guiding, correcting — but the way his hand lingered just a fraction too long, the heat radiating from him, the calm authority in his tone… it was maddening. I had to focus, had to remember the patient's life was in my hands, but all I could think about was how easy it was to lose myself in him.
Even as I worked, following his instructions, I caught myself stealing glances at his profile, the sharp line of his jaw, the calm focus in his eyes. Every correction, every subtle brush of his fingers against mine, was a spark. And somehow, amidst the chaos and blood and urgency, it made me ache.
“Step aside, Vaughn,” someone else barked from the corner — Dr. Patel, the daytime attending, striding in as if he owned the room. “Your shift hasn't started yet, and she's my resident.”
“No,” Doctor Vaughn responded smoothly, his hand brushing mine again as he adjusted the clamp. “Doctor Volkov belongs to no one, Frank. She's got this. Just stay sharp and follow my lead, Anya.”
I blinked, heart thudding for more reasons than one. Vaughn’s calm command silenced Patel's protest, and suddenly, the chaos felt… smaller. Focused. I realized I was clinging to him without thinking, letting his presence steady my hands and my racing thoughts.
“Good,” he murmured, voice low and steady, brushing my shoulder briefly as he leaned over my workstation. “Make your moves a little tighter, but don't nick the artery. Keep pressure here — perfect. I've got you.”
It was infuriating how much I wanted to lean into him, to rely on him more than I should. And yet, the pull was undeniable. I obeyed; every instruction sharpening my attention, every brush of his fingers sending a heat through me that had nothing to do with the patient.
Even Patel, flustered, backed off, leaving the two of us lockedin our rhythm. That was a feat all of its own. I couldn't decide if I was more terrified of the patient flatlining or of how completely aware I was of him, guiding me, whispering reassurance that stirred something I shouldn't admit — even to myself.
“Easy,” he said, closer now, his shoulder nearly brushing mine as I maneuvered the forceps deeper. “You're right on it. See the edge there? Don't pull yet.”
I stilled, breath locked in my chest. The fragment gleamed wetly under the lights, lodged too closely. My hands trembled despite my best efforts.
“I know,” he murmured, as if he could feel it, too. “Slow down. You don't need strength here. Just patience and precision.”
Once more, another body crowded the small space —Patelleaned over my shoulder, already reaching for the tray. “I’ve seen enough. I can take that,” a voice said. Confident. Assured. “Give it to me.”
Doctor Vaughn didn't even look up. “No,” he said, calm but immovable. “She's already there.”
His hand came to rest on my elbow. “Angle slightly left. Good. That's it. You're doing exactly what you should.”
The room seemed to narrow until there was only the fragment, my hands, and his voice. I adjusted my grip, followed his quiet instructions, every word settling me more than any deep breath ever had.
“Now,” he said softly. “Just a little. Let it come to you.” The piece slid free, small and dark against the stainless steel of the tray. Relief hit me so fast that my knees nearly buckled.
“Perfect,” Vaughn said, and there was something in his tone then. Pride, maybe. Or something more dangerous. “You stayed with it. That's hard to teach, Doctor Volkov. You’re a natural.”
I looked up at him without thinking. He was already watching me, expression carefully neutral, eyes steady. His hand slipped away from my elbow as if it had never been there at all.
But the heat of the moment lingered.
Chapter 2
Anya
It didn't dawn on me until the room emptied.
The monitors steadied. The tray was cleared. Someone clapped me on the shoulder and said something I didn't quite catch. And then, all at once, my hands started to shake.
Not fear. Not anymore, it was just… the aftermath. Remnants of adrenaline.
I’d only been working the night shift for about four days. Before my switch to nights, Doctor Vaughn and I had crossed paths before on rare occasions, but he’d never… instructed me.
Andneverlike he just had.
Doctor Patel had been my direct report for the last year and a half of my residency. And… I must have pulled the shortest of all the sticks, because I was the youngest resident. Or… that’s not entirely true.
But the other residents my age were also men.
I’d never outrightsaythat this was the reason Frank Patel had it out for me, but… it certainly felt like it.