Chapter 9 - The Healer
Back at the upstate estate, the atmosphere was tense. Gabriel refused to go to the medical wing, insisting on reviewing the contents of the USB drive immediately. He sat in his study, shirtless, while his private doctor prepared to stitch the jagged wound on his shoulder.
"I can do it," Elena said suddenly, stepping into the room.
The doctor looked at Gabriel, who gave a slight nod. The doctor handed Elena the suture kit and left the room.
Elena stood behind Gabriel. His back was corded with muscle and crisscrossed with old, faded scars—a map of a violent life. She cleaned the blood from his shoulder, her hands remarkably steady.
"You restore paintings," Gabriel noted, his voice a low rumble. "You have steady hands."
"I fix broken things," Elena replied softly, threading the needle. "This will sting."
"I have felt worse."
As she carefully stitched the wound, the silence between them shifted. It was no longer the heavy silence of captor and captive. It was something intimate, forged in the adrenaline of surviving a firefight.
"Why did you jump in front of me?" Elena asked, tying off a knot. "You could have been killed."
"I told you I was going to keep you alive," Gabriel said, turning his head to look at her over his uninjured shoulder. His gray eyes locked onto hers with a magnetic, terrifying intensity. "I do not break my promises, Elena."
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Elena’s breath caught in her throat. For three years, Julian had made her feel small, weak, and disposable. But looking at Gabriel—a ruthless mob boss who had just bled for her—she felt something she hadn't felt in a very long time. She felt protected.
"The drive is decrypting," Gabriel said, breaking the spell. He gestured to the laptop on his desk. "Julian’s entire life is in those files. By tomorrow, he will be a dead man walking."
