Chapter 77

Meanwhile, at Southaven Fire Station. The smell of disinfectant hung thick in the air inside the medical room. Conrad sat shirtless, his back to the doctor, silently letting him apply ointment to the raw, blistered burns on his back. His lean muscles tensed under his skin, each ridge standing out sharply, beads of sweat sliding down his sharp jawline. "Conrad, you seriously pushed it this time," the old doctor muttered as he gently wrapped the gauze around his injuries, sighing under his breath. "Second-degree burns, and not a small area either. Another second later and you'd need a skin graft." "No water. No heavy activity. You hear me? Take the damn leave and rest." Conrad didn't say a word. Once the bandage was secure, he grabbed the black T-shirt beside him and, despite the searing pain, pulled it on slowly. The moment he pushed open the door, several firefighters waiting outside rushed toward him, worry written all over their faces. "Captain! What the hell happened today? You near