No Cure For Claimed

The shift was supposed to end with chart notes and a clean set of scrubs. Instead, Jasira Vass is on the floor of Mercy General with her hands buried in a dying man's chest while gunfire tears the hospital apart.

She doesn't run. She spent ten years keeping Marines alive under fire; one bleeding mobster on her trauma floor doesn't rattle her. She doesn't break, either. But when the smoke clears, she's standing in the crosshairs of the Bratva, marked for a kill order she never earned, and the only thing between her and a body bag is the Irish syndicate's most feared enforcer.

Ronan O'Connell. Lieutenant. Executioner. The man the O'Connells send when they need the bodies to stay quiet.