Chapter 3 - The Threat in the Shadows
Three days passed. Gabriel Thorne remained in the VIP suite, heavily guarded by his men. Clara’s night shifts became a strange, terrifying routine. Every time she walked into his room to check his vitals, Gabriel was awake, watching her with those intense, calculating whiskey-colored eyes.
He didn't treat her like the staff. He asked her questions about her life, her grueling hours, and her ambitions. For the first time in years, a man was looking at her mind, not dismissing her body.
But outside the hospital, a storm was brewing.
It was 3:00 a.m. on a Thursday when Victor cornered Clara in the supply closet. The massive enforcer looked genuinely terrified.
"You need to leave," Victor said, shoving a thick manila envelope into her hands. "Take this. It’s fifty thousand in cash and a fake passport. Get out of New York tonight."
Clara stared at the envelope, her heart hammering. "What are you talking about?"
"The hit on Gabriel wasn't a rival syndicate," Victor growled, checking the hallway. "It was an inside job. Someone in the inner circle wanted him dead. And whoever it is, they know that you saved his life. They know Gabriel trusts you. That makes you a loose end."
"I'm just a nurse!" Clara whispered fiercely. "I don't know anything about your business!"
"In our world, innocence doesn't keep you breathing," Victor warned. "Leo has been asking questions about you. Where you live. What your schedule is. If he gets to you, he’ll use you to get to Gabriel."
Before Clara could process the horrifying reality of his words, the hospital's fire alarm suddenly blared. The shrill, piercing siren echoed through the corridors.
Victor cursed violently, drawing a heavy, suppressed pistol from beneath his jacket. "It’s a distraction. They’re making a move on the boss."
Clara didn't run for the exit. Instinct, honed by years of saving lives, took over. She dropped the envelope and bolted toward the VIP wing, Victor right on her heels.
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When they burst into Gabriel’s room, the window was shattered, rain pouring in. Two men in dark tactical gear were advancing on the hospital bed, weapons drawn. Gabriel, despite his massive chest wound, had managed to roll to the floor, grasping a scalpel he had stolen off a tray.
"Victor, down!" Clara screamed, throwing a heavy metal crash cart directly into the path of the assassins.
