Chapter 2 - The Dead Man’s Secret
The first shot sounded like thunder trapped inside the walls.
Then came another.
And another.
The room exploded into movement.
Men shouted.
Weapons came out.
Glass shattered.
Someone knocked over the surgical lamp.
I dropped instinctively behind the marble treatment table.
Lucas's monitor screamed.
"Protect him!" Damian shouted.
I crawled toward the bed.
In the darkness, I could hear footsteps in the corridor.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
A man screamed.
Then silence.
Damian moved like someone who had practiced surviving his entire life.
He grabbed a fallen tactical flashlight and threw it toward the door.
The beam spun across the room.
For half a second, I saw three armed men entering from the service corridor.
One raised his gun.
Damian fired first.
The man dropped.
Another shot cracked.
Sofia returned fire.
I kept my eyes on Lucas.
His pressure was falling again.
"Damian!"
He turned.
"What?"
"He's crashing."
He looked toward me.
"Do what you have to do."
I did.
I ignored the bullets.
I ignored the screaming.
I ignored the blood.
There was only the patient.
I adjusted his airway.
Started fluids.
Checked the surgical wound.
His abdomen was becoming rigid.
Internal bleeding.
He needed an operating room.
Not a penthouse.
Not a field kit.
An operating room.
"We need surgery."
Damian walked over.
"Can you do it here?"
I stared at him.
"I'm a nurse."
"Then tell me who can."
"Anyone competent."
His jaw tightened.
Dr. Bell stepped forward.
"I can."
I looked at him.
"No."
Damian's eyes narrowed.
"You think he's compromised."
"I know he is."
Bell looked furious.
"You have no evidence."
"The potassium chloride."
"That was a mistake."
"Three times?"
The room changed.
Sofia stepped forward.
"Three times?"
I pointed at the tray.
"Three medications were prepared for Lucas. The sedative, the antibiotic, and the potassium."
Bell stared at me.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying someone expected him to die."
Damian turned toward his men.
"Find the person who prepared the medications."
A guard hesitated.
"They were prepared by the internal medical team."
"Then bring me everyone."
I looked at Lucas.
"We don't have time."
Damian nodded.
"Get the private surgical team."
"Where?"
"St. Matthew's."
I shook my head.
"They'll need twenty minutes."
He looked at me.
"That's too long."
"Exactly."
He grabbed his phone.
"Then we're moving him."
I followed.
"Don't move him down the elevator."
He stopped.
"Why?"
"If the attackers know this building, they'll expect the elevator."
Sofia looked impressed.
"She's right."
Damian glanced at me.
"Stairs?"
"Service stairwell."
He nodded.
Two men lifted Lucas.
I followed with the trauma bag.
We moved through smoke and alarms.
Halfway down, a wounded guard stumbled against the wall.
"Boss."
Damian stopped.
"What?"
The guard coughed.
"They weren't here for Lucas."
Damian froze.
"Who were they here for?"
The guard looked at me.
I felt cold.
"Her."
A gunshot came from below.
Damian grabbed my arm.
"Run."
We ran.
I didn't ask questions.
I didn't need answers.
Someone had come into the building expecting me.
Not Lucas.
Me.
At the forty-second floor, we entered an unfinished construction level and hid behind concrete pillars.
My lungs burned.
Damian stood inches away.
"Who are the Falcones to your father?"
I shook my head.
"I don't know."
"You're lying."
"I'm not."
"My father gambled."
"That's not what I'm asking."
"I know."
Damian stared at me.
"My father owed them money."
"How much?"
"One hundred twenty thousand."
He looked almost surprised.
"That's it?"
"That's enough to ruin me."
Damian lowered his voice.
"Your father wasn't a gambler."
I stared at him.
"Yes, he was."
"No."
He pulled a folded piece of paper from his coat.
My father's handwriting.
I recognized it instantly.
My knees almost failed.
"Where did you get that?"
"Your father gave it to me eleven years ago."
I took the paper.
There were only six words.
If anything happens to me, protect Amelia.
I looked up.
"What is this?"
"Your father's warning."
"About what?"
Damian's expression hardened.
"About a ledger."
I shook my head.
"I don't understand."
"He kept records."
"Of gambling?"
"Of people."
He looked at the handwriting.
"Politicians. Judges. Police. Businessmen. Everyone who paid him to make problems disappear."
I stared at the paper.
"My father wasn't a bookie."
"No."
Damian stepped closer.
"He was the accountant for the Costa organization."
The words hit harder than the gunshots.
My father.
The man who worked every day in a machine shop.
The man who complained about coffee prices.
The man who taught me how to ride a bicycle.
A criminal?
"Why didn't he tell me?"
"He was trying to protect you."
I laughed bitterly.
"He did a terrible job."
Damian's eyes softened for a fraction of a second.
Then the floor below us shook.
An explosion.
Concrete dust fell from the ceiling.
Sofia shouted through the radio.
"The stairs are compromised!"
Damian grabbed my hand.
"Stay with me."
I almost pulled away.
Then I saw blood on his sleeve.
"You've been shot."
"It's nothing."
"It isn't."
"It's not mine."
I looked down.
Blood was running from Lucas's stretcher.
My focus returned.
"Move!"
We reached the service garage.
A black SUV waited.
Inside, Lucas was placed on the rear bench.
I climbed in beside him.
Damian followed.
The SUV launched into the rain.
Chicago blurred outside.
I worked continuously for fourteen minutes.
Then Lucas opened his eyes.
His first word was barely audible.
"Amelia."
I froze.
"You know me?"
His eyes shifted toward Damian.
"She was the one."
Damian leaned forward.
"The one what?"
Lucas tried to speak.
I leaned closer.
"Don't waste your strength."
He whispered anyway.
"Your father..."
I looked at him.
"Yes?"
"Didn't die from a heart attack."
The world stopped.
I stared at him.
Lucas closed his eyes.
"Someone killed him."
My hands went cold.
Damian sat silently across from me.
I turned toward him.
"You knew."
He didn't answer.
"You knew my father was murdered."
"He suspected he was going to be."
"That isn't what I asked."
Damian looked at me.
"I was too late."
Something inside me broke.
He continued.
"Your father came to me three weeks before he died. He told me someone inside my organization was stealing from me and selling information to the Falcones."
"Who?"
"We never found out."
My father had died.
The leak remained.
And now someone was trying to kill Lucas.
And me.
The pieces were starting to fit.
But one piece still didn't.
"Why did they need me dead?"
Damian's answer came quietly.
"Because your father left something behind."
"What?"
He looked at me.
"Proof."
The SUV slowed.
We entered an underground medical facility hidden beneath a private building.
Doctors rushed toward Lucas.
As they wheeled him away, Damian stopped me.
"You're staying here."
"I'm not staying anywhere."
"You are until I know who wants you dead."
I glared at him.
"I don't belong to you."
His expression didn't change.
"No."
He stepped closer.
"That's exactly what worries me."
He walked away.
I looked down at the paper in my hand.
Protect Amelia.
For eleven years, I had believed my father died because he gambled too much.
Now I was standing inside a secret medical bunker owned by the same man my father once trusted.
And somewhere in Chicago was the person responsible for his death.
The person who wanted me gone.
I unfolded the note again.
Something was written on the back.
A number.
Seven.
Then a name.
Costa.
May you like
I looked up toward the hallway where Damian had disappeared.
My father's final secret had just pointed directly at him.
