The air in the library was heavy, smelling of old leather, fine bourbon, and the quiet despair of a man who had long since surrendered to his own cage.

Claire sat by Leo’s hospital bed, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of her seven-year-old son's chest. The monitors beeped steadily. Outside the door, two massive men in dark suits stood like gargoyles. Sebastian had kept his word.

"Mom?" Leo murmured, his eyes fluttering open. He looked pale, but the doctors said the surgery was finally scheduled for next week.

"I'm here, baby," Claire said, brushing his hair back.

"Are those men the FBI?" Leo whispered, pointing weakly at the door.

Claire forced a laugh. "No, sweetie. They're security. My new client is very important, and he wants to make sure we're safe."

Her phone buzzed. It was an unknown number.

He's sleeping well? the text read.

Claire frowned and typed back: Who is this?

Lombardi. I had my men check on the pediatric ward's security. It's terrible. I bought the hospital's administration a new wing so they wouldn't ask questions about my guards.

Claire stared at the screen. The man was a monster, a criminal who ordered hits and ran rackets. Yet, he was the only person who had ever fiercely protected her family.