Chapter 3 - Waking Up to the Wolf
The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was the first thing Clara registered. Her head throbbed with a blinding, white-hot agony. She tried to open her eyes, but the harsh hospital lights forced them shut again.
"Take your time."
The voice was a deep, gravelly baritone that sent a shiver down her spine. Clara forced her eyes open, blinking through the haze of painkillers. Sitting in a chair by the window, entirely engulfed in the shadows, was a man. As her vision cleared, she recognized the tailored suit, the broad shoulders, and the silver at his temples. Julian Vargas. The man she had seen at the cemetery all those years ago. The crime lord of Boston.
"Lily," Clara gasped, trying to sit up, panic instantly seizing her chest. "Where is my daughter?"
"She is safe," Julian said, stepping into the light. He gestured to the adjoining room, where the door was slightly ajar. Clara could see Lily curled up on a plush sofa, fast asleep, with a massive man in a suit standing guard outside her door. "She came to me. She was unharmed."
Clara slumped back onto the pillows, a sob of relief tearing from her throat. "Thank you. Oh God, thank you."
"Do not thank me," Julian replied, his expression unreadable. "The men who did this to you will never breathe Boston air again. But their boss, Ramon, runs the Iron Skulls. He will view my intervention as an act of war. Which means you and your daughter are no longer safe in the East End."
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Clara’s heart pounded. "What are you saying?"
"I am saying," Julian leaned closer, his dark eyes intense, "that when the doctor discharges you tomorrow, you are not going home. You are coming with me."
