Stranger in my Ass-Chapter 234

Olivia’s POV

"Maxwell! Maxwell, please stay with me!" I shook him, trying to wake him up. "Please don’t die. Don’t die now." I was shaking him with every strength in me.

His eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glazed with pain. "No hospital," he mumbled.

Oh, thank God. Thank God.

"You’re bleeding! You need..."

"No. Hospital." His hand gripped my wrist with surprising strength. "Promise me, Olivia."

It wasn’t the first time he’d voiced his distaste for hospitals. He’d done it the first time in Chicago, and at this point, I started wondering why he had strong distaste for hospitals.

But then again, this was different. This was serious.

"Maxwell, you could die..."

"Olivia!" He grunted in pain. "Promise me..."

I looked at the blood still seeping from his side, at his pale face, at the way his breathing came in shallow gasps.

And I made a decision.

"Okay. Okay, no hospital. But I need to get help. Stay here. Don’t move."

I scrambled to my feet and ran.

Gabriel. Gabriel was a doctor. He could help.

I sprinted down the hallway in my blood-soaked nightgown, not caring who saw me, not caring about anything except getting to Gabriel’s room.

I pounded on his door. "Gabriel! GABRIEL!"

The door opened almost immediately.

Gabriel’s eyes went wide. "Olivia? What the..."

He took in my appearance - the blood, the terror on my face, the way I was shaking.

"Is that your blood?" His doctor voice kicked in immediately, professional and calm. "Are you hurt? Let me see..."

"It’s not mine." I grabbed his arm. "Please. I need your help. Now."

"What happened? Olivia, you need to tell me..."

"Just follow me! Please!"

Something in my voice must have convinced him because he grabbed his medical bag from inside his room and followed without another question.

We ran back to my room. Maxwell was exactly where I’d left him, slumped against the doorframe, his eyes closed.

"Jesus Christ." Gabriel was already moving, dropping to his knees beside Maxwell. "What happened to him?"

"I don’t know! He just showed up at my door like this!"

Gabriel’s hands moved quickly, checking Maxwell’s pulse, lifting his torn shirt to examine the wound. "Gunshot?"

"I don’t know!"

"Looks like a knife wound. Deep. He’s lost a lot of blood." Gabriel looked up at me. "I need to get my supplies. Can you keep pressure on this?"

He showed me where to press - just below Maxwell’s ribs on his left side. I pressed my hands against the wound, feeling the warm blood pulse beneath my palms.

"I’ll be right back. Keep talking to him. Don’t let him lose consciousness."

Gabriel ran.

I stared down at Maxwell’s face, at the man who’d turned my entire life upside down, now bleeding out in my hotel room.

"Maxwell. Hey. Stay with me." I pressed harder on the wound. "You don’t get to die. You hear me? You don’t get to show up at my door bleeding and then just die. That’s not how this works."

His eyes cracked open. "Bossy," he mumbled.

"Damn right I’m bossy. Now stay awake."

"Trying."

"Try harder."

A ghost of a smile. "Yes, ma’am."

Gabriel burst back in, his arms full of medical supplies. "Alright. I’m going to need you to help me get him onto the bed."

Between the two of us, we managed to half-carry, half-drag Maxwell to the bed. He groaned in pain but didn’t cry out.

"This is going to hurt," Gabriel warned, already laying out supplies on the nightstand. "I don’t have any anesthetic."

"Just do it," Maxwell gritted out.

I watched, horrified and fascinated, as Gabriel worked.

First, he cut away what was left of Maxwell’s shirt, exposing the wound fully. It was a deep gash, about four inches long, just below his ribs. Blood welled up steadily.

"Hand me those gauze pads," Gabriel instructed. "I need to clean this before I can stitch it."

I passed him the gauze, watching as he poured antiseptic over the wound. Maxwell’s entire body tensed, his jaw clenching so hard I could hear his teeth grinding.

"I know. I know it hurts." Gabriel’s voice was gentle but focused. "Almost done with this part."

He cleaned the wound neatly, wiping away blood and debris until he could see the edges clearly.

"Okay. Now comes the hard part." Gabriel threaded a curved needle with surgical thread. "Olivia, I need you to hold his hand. Maxwell, squeeze as hard as you need to."

I took Maxwell’s hand in mine. It was cold, clammy with shock.

"Ready?" Gabriel positioned the needle.

Maxwell nodded once.

The first stitch made him hiss through his teeth. His hand crushed mine, but I didn’t pull away.

"That’s one," Gabriel counted. "About fifteen more to go."

I watched, unable to look away, as Gabriel worked. Each stitch was precise, pulling the torn flesh back together. Maxwell’s breathing grew more labored with each pass of the needle, but he didn’t cry out. Didn’t ask Gabriel to stop.

"You’re doing great," I found myself whispering. "Almost there."

Maxwell’s eyes found mine. Even glazed with pain, they were intense. "You... shouldn’t be seeing this."

"Too late now."

"Always... so stubborn."

"Says the man who refused to go to a hospital."

Another ghost of a smile, quickly replaced by a grimace as Gabriel made another stitch.

Finally - finally - Gabriel tied off the last suture and sat back. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

"Done. That should hold." He wrapped gauze around Maxwell’s torso, securing it with medical tape. "You’re lucky. It missed all the major organs. But you need to rest. No moving around for at least forty-eight hours."

"Not a problem," Maxwell mumbled. His eyes were drooping now that the adrenaline was fading.

Gabriel cleaned up his supplies, his face filled with concern. "He should really be in a hospital. This is serious, Olivia."

"He refused."

"Of course he did." Gabriel sighed. "Fine. But someone needs to watch him tonight. Make sure he doesn’t develop a fever. Change the dressing every few hours. If he starts bleeding through the bandages or seems confused, call me immediately."

"I will."

Gabriel looked between us, something unreadable crossing his face. "I’ll be in my room if you need me."

After he left, I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at Maxwell’s pale face.

He was already asleep, his breathing steady but shallow.

I should go shower. Change out of this blood-soaked nightgown. Get some rest.

But I couldn’t leave him.

So I pulled a chair up beside the bed, took his hand in mine, and waited.

Willing him to be okay.

Willing morning to come.