The Forbidden Love

"Dr. Escobar, we need you. There's been an emergency."

Rafael's heart rate quickened as the director explained the details: Sofia Alvarez, the notorious mafia boss of the Alvarez family, had been shot during an assassination attempt. Her injuries were severe, and they needed Rafael's expertise to keep her alive.

The name knocked him like a physical blow. Alvarez, Sofia Ruling Las Vegas with a harsh, merciless grasp, she commanded not only the criminal underground but also shaped everything, including corporate executives and politicians. Her name was both dreaded and revered; her eyes were the last thing her rivals saw before silence was enforced.

Rafael had never really seen her. He knew only the murmurs, the stories, the cold woman who could have anyone slain with just a glance. Still here she was, depending on him, defenseless and injured.

His breath hung in his throat. He was entering the lion's den, not merely into the operating room to save a life.

His hands shaking, he dropped the phone. Moving from his regimented world of medicine to the anarchy Sofia Alvarez depicted was like sailing from calm waters into a storm.

Rising, he grabbed his coat and the medical bag he always carried for crises. His head spun with questions pouring through it. Who had sought to kill her? Into what was he about to walk? Could someone like her even be saved?

The weight of the choice crushed down on him as he left his flat into the darkness. Now compelled to save the woman whose very mention caused the streets to shake, a man who spent his life rescuing others

His footsteps resounded in the vacant hall as he went inside the elevator. Rafael stopped once the doors closed. He inhaled deeply, filling his chest.

Minutes thereafter he went into the surgery room. Thick tension permeated the air as the personnel moved with urgency. Nevertheless, the air was imbued with a tangible apprehension, an expectation of what was to come, even with their quick motions.

Everything seemed to slow down as Rafael moved forward to the table where Sofia lay asleep, unsure of whether it was the silence of the room or the soft hum of the overhead lights. She looked so different from the strong image he had heard about, the women with the iron determination, a leader in a war she had always been winning.

She was frailty now. She was simply a woman, like any other, the blood soaking her clothes, the way her chest scarcely raised with every faint breath. And Rafael could not suppress a touch of sympathy.

Rafael changed his gloves and got ready for operation. Looking down at her face, he considered this might be the most risky choice he has ever made.

His pulse matched the beat of the ticking clock in the corner of the room as the seconds passed. The operations started.

He reached for the scalpel, solid in his hands, yet he could feel his pulse thundering in his ears. Every incision he made drove him toward her and farther into her realm. He was not blind to the conundrum of the circumstances. His job was basic: save her life. As a surgeon, though, he understood the complexity of the matter transcending what was happening on the operating table.

The clock seemed to hurry with every movement. The space seemed smaller, tighter, as though the walls themselves were pushing in. When his universe had been turned upside down in an instant, how long could he stay focused?

Then he heard it, the quiet scrape of shoes on the floor toward the rear of the room. Just at the brink of his sight, a shadow hung. Rafael's hand stopped midway in air. He was not alone in here when the flash of insight struck. One other person was observing him.

Rafael looked up momentarily and once more found the shadow. Though hardly obvious, it was there. He dared not divert his focus away from the current work even though he knew someone else was watching. Now Sofia's life hung in balance, it was his own as well.

His hands moved fast, the air smelling of antiseptic, the only sound disturbing the quiet the heart monitor beeping. Sofia then inhaled sharply to help her breathing to steady. She had passed the worst portion of her fight for life; it was not finished.

He sighed a little in relief as he laid the scalpel down. The worst was now behind us.

It was at this point he noticed it. The quiet of the room has changed. Just a few steps behind him, the man silhouetted in the darkness had stepped forward. Nobody had mentioned it. Nobody had spoken a sound.

Then low and threatening came a voice. Dr. Escobar, you have done your work. The question is, therefore, why are you still here?

Turning slowly, Rafael came upon a man with cold, analytical eyes. Michael Richards here. right-hand man for Sofia. Only his allegiance to her matched a man with reputation for cruelty. Michael was now assessing him with the eye of a predator.

Alert to the threat stalking Rafael, his instincts erupted.