Chapter 2 - The Diagnosis
The Silva Syndicate did not operate out of a dingy warehouse. Roman’s compound was a sprawling, ultra-modern fortress nestled in the wooded hills just outside the city limits. It was surrounded by electrified fencing, thermal cameras, and heavily armed men who moved like ghosts in the treeline.
By the time they arrived, Elena had lost consciousness, her head resting against Leo’s small shoulder. Roman carried her inside himself, bypassing his lieutenants who stared in shock as their ruthless boss sprinted through the marble foyer with a frail woman in his arms.
Doc Harrison was already setting up a sterile field in the compound’s medical wing.
“Out,” Harrison ordered Roman as he laid Elena on the examination table. “Take the kid. Give me twenty minutes.”
Roman took Leo to the massive industrial kitchen down the hall. The boy hadn't spoken a word since the car ride. He just gripped the plastic grocery bag tightly to his chest. Roman pulled out a stool for him and poured a glass of warm milk.
“She’s going to be okay, kid,” Roman said quietly, leaning against the granite counter.
Leo finally set the bag down. He carefully took out an apple, polished it on his faded shirt, and set it on the counter. “She doesn't eat,” Leo said, his voice cracking. “She gives all the food to me. That’s why she’s sick. Because of me.”
Roman felt a spike of pure, white-hot rage, but he kept his face completely neutral. “It’s not because of you, Leo. It’s because she is a mother. Mothers do whatever it takes to keep their kids breathing.”
Twenty minutes later, Doc Harrison walked into the kitchen, his expression grim.
“She’s severely malnourished, Roman,” the doctor said, wiping his hands on a towel. “But that’s not what caused the collapse. She has three fractured ribs that healed incorrectly, and a severe internal infection likely caused by a puncture wound that was never properly treated. Judging by the scar tissue, the injury is about ten months old.”
Ten months. The exact timeline Elena had given him on the curb.
Roman’s blood ran cold. “Can you fix it?”
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“I’ve started her on broad-spectrum IV antibiotics. She needs surgery to reset the ribs and clear the necrotic tissue. I can do it here, but she needs rest. Absolute safety.”
“She has it,” Roman stated, the finality in his voice echoing off the tile walls. He looked at Leo, who was staring at the floor. “No one touches her again.”
