I watched the rearview mirror, waiting for headlights to appear.

Nothing followed us into the industrial streets.

“He’s losing too much blood,” Romano said from the back seat.

His hands were pressed hard against Marcus’s shoulder, trying to stem the flow.

“We can’t take him to a regular hospital,” I said, turning onto the coastal highway. “Tony will have eyes on every emergency room in the city.”

“Then where?” Romano asked.

I took a deep breath, my hands tight on the steering wheel.

“I have colleagues,” I said. “A few people in the bureau who still believe in the badge.”

Romano looked up, his reflection caught in the dark glass of the window.

“You trust them?” he asked.

“With my life,” I said. “And with his.”

I navigated the slick streets, heading toward the northern edge of the city.

The rain showed no signs of stopping.

Twenty minutes later, we pulled into the ambulance bay of a small, private clinic in the suburbs.

Two men in plain clothes were waiting under the concrete awning.

They didn’t look like doctors, but they had a gurney ready.