Niklaus POV:

Eventually, the doctor had kicked me out the room so she could properly finish her examination. She had kicked me out of the room two hours ago, citing that my presence was interfering with her ability to perform surgery. It was nearing midday, and the tension from the morning's events still lingered in my chest. Needing a distraction, I headed down to the kitchen to make some food.

As I entered, the familiar scent of brewing coffee greeted me. Elijah, my non-blood-related brother and second-in-command, was leaning against the counter, a cup in hand. His sharp eyes immediately zeroed in on me, taking in the bloodstains on my clothes. "Where have you been all morning? And why the fuck are you covered in blood?" he asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and concern. His eyebrows knitted together, a rare show of emotion on his usually composed face.

I glanced down at myself, the evidence of the morning's chaos stark against my skin. I sighed, running a hand through my hair, still processing everything. "Found a girl near the edge of the territory," I replied, my voice measured. "She was badly injured, some Irish thugs were involved. I brought her here for treatment."

Elijah's eyes widened slightly, a rare occurrence that spoke volumes. He set his cup down with a clink, crossing his arms over his chest. "And you decided to play hero? That's not like you, klaus." His voice held a teasing edge, but I could sense the underlying seriousness. He knew me too well.

I shrugged, brushing past him to open the fridge. "It was a calculated decision. She was unconscious and badly hurt. Besides," I paused, grabbing some ingredients, "she might have information we can use."

Elijah nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "You better go shower before Auntie sees you, especially if Bella is with her. She'll kill you," he added, a smirk playing on his lips.

I chuckled, despite the situation. My mother would definitely killed me if she found out Bella, had seen me covered in blood, shes only 2 so we keep her out of our business as much as we can. "I'll clean up after I eat," I assured him, pulling out some eggs and vegetables.

Just then, Elliot, Elijah's younger brother, walked into the kitchen, followed closely by my father. Elliot had just started attending a new school and had recently befriended a new student, Stacy, who had piqued everyone's curiosity. Seeing them now, a pang of guilt washed over me. The girl upstairs could have easily been someone they knew. It reminded me how close violence was to our everyday lives, even for the younger members of our family.

"What's for lunch?" Elliot asked, his youthful face lighting up at the sight of food.

"Im making eggs" I replied
My father, a stoic man who had taught us everything we knew about running the mafia, gave me a nod of acknowledgment. His gaze lingered on the bloodstains, a silent question in his eyes. I shook my head slightly, signaling that now wasn't the time for explanations.

As I started cooking, I couldn't shake the image of the girl's face from my mind. Her injuries were severe, but even through the blood and bruises, she had a beauty that was hard to ignore. A part of me was curious, intrigued by her presence. But more than that, I felt a strange protectiveness, a sense that she was now under my care, however temporary that might be.

The thought of invading her privacy had been repugnant. That was why I had waited for the female doctor to arrive before addressing any of her injuries beyond her face. The idea of her waking up and finding out a strange man had inspected her body without her consent was unacceptable. It was a line I would not cross, a boundary I respected even in my ruthless world. My reputation as a terrifying, emotionless leader was well-earned, but there were still codes of conduct, even for me.

As the food sizzled on the stove, I mulled over the implications of her arrival. The Irish involvement was concerning, a potential spark for something larger. But for now, all I could do was wait for her to wake up and hope she had answers.

I had just finished showering and getting changed after eating lunch. The hot water had helped wash away the grime and the lingering scent of blood, but it couldn't erase the events of the morning from my mind. I dressed in fresh clothes, a simple black shirt and jeans, opting for something comfortable yet practical. As I looked in the mirror, I noticed the dark circles under my eyes, a testament to the lack of sleep and the perpetual tension of our lifestyle.

With a deep breath, I headed back downstairs. The familiar creak of the wooden steps was a small comfort, a reminder of the stability amidst the chaos. As I reached the bottom, I could hear the soft murmur of voices coming from the living room. My family was gathered there, a rare occurrence during these tumultuous times.

Stepping into the living room, I saw Elijah lounging on the couch, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He looked up as I entered, giving me a slight nod. Our father was seated in his usual armchair, his expression as inscrutable as ever. He was a man of few words, but his presence commanded respect. Across the room, Elliot was perched on the edge of a chair, fiddling with his phone, a slight frown on his face. He looked up briefly, acknowledging my presence with a small smile.

Bella, our little ray of sunshine, was seated on the floor, surrounded by a pile of coloring books and crayons. Her innocent chatter was a stark contrast to the weighty conversation that had just occurred in the room. She looked up and beamed at me, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Klaus!" she exclaimed, jumping up and running over to me. I couldn't help but smile as I bent down to scoop her up into a hug. Her warmth and innocence were a balm to the soul, a reminder of the good we were fighting to protect, even in this dark world.

I carried her over to the couch, setting her down gently. As I took a seat, I noticed the room quiet down, the atmosphere shifting to something more serious. The weight of unspoken questions hung in the air. My father's piercing gaze met mine, a silent inquiry about the girl I had brought in.

Clearing my throat, I decided to address the elephant in the room. "The girl I found... She's in bad shape, but the doctor says she'll recover," I began, choosing my words carefully. "She was attacked by some Irish thugs. I recognized their tattoos." My voice hardened at the mention of the Irish mafia. They had been a thorn in our side for far too long.

Elijah leaned forward, his expression serious. "Do you think she's connected to them?" he asked, his tone thoughtful.

I shook my head. "Unlikely. From the state she was in, she seemed more like a victim than an accomplice. But until she wakes up, we can't be sure." I paused, considering my next words. "She's beautiful," I admitted, almost as an afterthought. "Even with the injuries, there's something... striking about her."

Elijah raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eye. "You? Noticing a girl's beauty? Now that's a first."

I shot him a pointed look, but the corners of my mouth twitched upward. "Don't get any ideas. I just meant she's... noticeable. But that doesn't change the fact that we need to figure out who she is and why the Irish were after her."

My father finally spoke, his voice a deep rumble that commanded attention. "You did the right thing by bringing her here. But we need to tread carefully. The Irish won't be pleased that we have one of their victims or potential targets. This could escalate quickly."

I nodded in agreement. "I've already tightened security. And the girl is in the medical wing. The doctor is trustworthy; she'll ensure that the girl recovers safely."

As the conversation shifted to other matters, I couldn't help but glance toward the hallway, where the medical wing was located. The girl was a mystery, one that we needed to solve quickly. In our world, secrets were dangerous, and I couldn't shake the feeling that she carried more than just the scars of an attack.

Eventually, by the time it was 1:30 PM, the doctor finally emerged from the medical wing. Her expression was composed, though the subtle tension in her posture suggested the situation was serious. She gave a polite nod to each of us, acknowledging our presence.

"Sir, Ma'am, Don," she said, addressing me, my mother, and my father with respect.

Before she could continue, my mother spoke up, her voice calm but firm. "Elliot, take Bella to her room." Even though Bella was in her own little world, engrossed in her Barbies, she didn't need to hear the details of an injured girl's condition.

Elliot nodded without hesitation, moving quickly to scoop Bella up. She giggled, oblivious to the gravity of the situation, her laughter a sweet, innocent sound that momentarily lightened the heavy atmosphere. As he carried her upstairs, her delighted chatter faded, leaving a tense silence in the room.

Turning my attention back to the doctor, I gave her a slight nod, signaling her to begin. She took a deep breath before speaking, her professional demeanor slipping slightly as she prepared to deliver the medical report.

"The young woman sustained multiple injuries," she began, her tone clinical but with a hint of concern. "She has a gunshot wound in her shoulder, which I've stabilized. Thankfully, it missed any major arteries, but it was a close call. She also has several bruises and lacerations, likely from the fall from her motorcycle. There are signs of a struggle—defensive wounds on her hands and arms. She's been through a lot."

As I listened, my mind pieced together the image of the girl. Despite the blood and injuries, she had an undeniable beauty that caught my attention, even in the midst of chaos. It was hard to ignore the striking contrast between her delicate features and the violence she had evidently endured. My thoughts were interrupted as the doctor continued, her expression growing more somber.

"Additionally, during the examination, I discovered numerous old scars covering her body. They appear to be around three or four years old, indicating prolonged trauma or repeated injuries over time. These scars are extensive and varied, suggesting she's faced a considerable amount of violence in her past. This isn't her first brush with danger."

The room grew colder with this revelation. The presence of old scars painted a grim picture of her life, hinting at a history of violence and resilience. My mother's face remained impassive, though I caught a flicker of concern in her eyes. My father, ever the stoic, showed no outward reaction, but I knew he was processing this new information as carefully as I was.

The doctor continued, "I've sedated her for now. She needs rest, and I've started her on antibiotics to prevent infection. The surgery was successful, but she'll need time to recover physically. As for her mental state, it's hard to say. Trauma like this can have lasting effects."

I nodded, taking it all in. "And her identity?" I asked, the question hanging in the air. It was crucial to know who she was and why she was targeted.

The doctor hesitated, then shook her head. "She hasn't regained consciousness, so we don't have any answers on that front yet. But given the situation, it's likely she's involved with... unsavory elements." She glanced around the room, clearly aware of our own connections and the world we lived in.

My father finally spoke, his voice a low rumble. "Keep her stable. We'll handle the rest." His tone was final, leaving no room for argument.

The doctor nodded, clearly understanding the unspoken command. "Of course. I'll check on her periodically and inform you of any changes."

With that, the doctor excused herself, leaving us in the tense quiet of the living room. I leaned back in my chair, rubbing a hand over my face. This girl had brought chaos into our carefully controlled world, and the implications of her presence were still unclear. But one thing was certain: we needed answers, and we needed them soon.

As I pondered the situation, my mother's voice cut through my thoughts. "We'll keep her safe," she said, her tone brokering no argument. "For now."

I nodded in agreement, my mind already racing with potential scenarios. The girl was a wild card, and in our world, wild cards were dangerous. But until she woke up and revealed her secrets, all we could do was wait and prepare for whatever storm she might bring. The discovery of her old scars only deepened the mystery and added a layer of urgency to unraveling her past and understanding the full extent of the danger she might pose or be facing.

Ollie POV: (Earlier)

It was nearly 10 AM, and the tension in the house was thick enough to cut with a knife. Stacy had left a brief, cryptic note that morning, mentioning she had to deal with "Irish fuckers" and that she'd be back later. But as the hours dragged on with no word from her, our anxiety grew.

Noah paced the living room, his phone in hand, checking it every few seconds. His usual laid-back demeanor had evaporated, replaced with a furrowed brow and tight jaw. Lily sat next to me on the couch, her foot tapping nervously. She tried to mask her worry, but her eyes betrayed her concern. Stacy's absence was gnawing at all of us. She was more than just our best friend; she was our protector, the one who always had everything under control.

The silence in the room was suffocating, filled with the weight of our unspoken fears. I tried to break the tension with an optimistic suggestion, "Maybe she's just running late. You know how these things go." But even to my ears, the words sounded hollow.

Noah finally stopped pacing and looked at us, his expression grim. "She should've called by now," he said, his voice low and tight. "Something doesn't feel right."

Lily nodded in agreement. "We can't just sit here and do nothing. If she's not back soon, we should start looking for her." Her voice was steady, but there was a tremor in it that betrayed her worry.

As the minutes ticked by, our anxiety morphed into a cold dread. Stacy was tough, but even she had her limits. The idea of her being in trouble out there alone was unbearable. Noah, always the pragmatic one, suddenly spoke up with a new plan. "What if she went to her family's house? Maybe something came up, and she didn't have time to let us know."

It was a solid suggestion. Stacy's biological family had been distant, but they were still her family. If she was in trouble, it made sense she might have gone to them for help. We quickly gathered our things and headed out, our urgency palpable.

The drive to Stacy's family home felt interminable, each passing minute amplifying our worry. Noah drove with a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel, his jaw set in a hard line. Lily stared out the window, lost in thought, while I kept checking my phone, hoping for any message from Stacy.

When we arrived, we were greeted by one of Stacy's older brothers, Riccardo—Ricc, as she called him. His expression shifted from surprise to concern as he took in our anxious faces. "Hey, guys," he greeted us, trying to sound casual. "What's going on? Is everything okay?"

Noah wasted no time, his voice edged with worry. "Have you seen Stacy? She left this morning and hasn't come back. We thought maybe she'd come here."

Ricc's face fell, his concern deepening. "No, she hasn't been here. I haven't seen her in a while." He paused, a shadow of worry crossing his face. "Is she in trouble?"

Lily quickly filled him in. "She left a note saying she had some business to take care of, but we haven't heard from her since. We're getting really worried."

Ricc nodded, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "Let's ask the others," he suggested, pulling out his phone. He quickly called his brothers, Francesco, Lorenzo, and Leonardo, to check if they'd seen or heard from Stacy.

As we waited, an uneasy silence settled over us. The seconds stretched on, each one filled with the weight of our mounting fears. Stacy was strong, capable, and always seemed invincible. But the dangerous world she operated in was unforgiving. The longer we waited, the more the knot of dread tightened in my stomach.

Francesco, Enzo, and Leo arrived shortly, their faces mirroring Ricc's concern. They confirmed that none of them had seen Stacy or had any idea where she could be. Noah clenched his fists, barely keeping his frustration in check. "If something's happened to her... We need to find her." His voice was fierce, filled with a mix of fear and determination.

The brothers exchanged worried glances, clearly sharing our concern. Leo, the youngest of Stacy's brothers, spoke up, "She can handle herself, but if she's been gone this long without contact... something's wrong."

We all nodded. We couldn't just sit back and do nothing. Stacy was family, and we weren't going to rest until we found her, no matter what it took. We quickly decided to head out and continue the search, driven by the hope that we would find her safe and sound.

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A/n:

Hey guys!! Another chapter finished I hope u enjoyed jt!

Just remember that I am not a doctor and know nothing about what doctors do and stuff

Abyway byeeeee love you all sm!!

WC: 3033