Chapter 20
Six months later.
The underground clinic on sub-level four was unrecognizable. The harsh, sterile lighting had been replaced with softer fluorescents. The outdated equipment had been gutted and replaced with a million dollars' worth of state-of-the-art medical technology.
Clara stood at the central island, reviewing a digital chart. She wore a sleek, black scrub top, the stethoscope draped around her neck no longer a symbol of small-town desperation, but of absolute authority. She was the chief medical officer of the most powerful syndicate on the West Coast, and no one questioned her orders.
The heavy steel doors hissed open. Julian walked in, wearing his signature tailored charcoal suit, looking completely out of place in the medical ward, yet owning the room the second he entered. Samson trotted in beside him, immediately making a beeline for Clara and dropping his massive head onto her foot.
"How is he?" Julian asked, nodding toward the private recovery room in the back.
"He'll live," Clara said, signing off on the tablet. "He caught a piece of shrapnel in the femoral during the warehouse raid last night. I tied it off. Tell Victor his new breaching charges are too volatile."
"I'll pass along your critique," Julian smirked, walking over and wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her close. He pressed a kiss to her temple. "You've been down here for eighteen hours. You need sleep."
"I have two more post-op checks," Clara argued weakly, though she leaned into his warmth.
"The nurses can handle it," Julian insisted softly, taking the tablet from her hands and setting it on the counter. "You aren't the only one holding the sky up anymore, Clara."
She looked up at him. The icy, untouchable predator she had met in the clock shop was still there, reserved for the world outside. But looking at her, his eyes were entirely open.
"Okay," Clara relented, leaning up to kiss him. "Take me upstairs."
May you like
They walked to the private elevator together, Samson trailing lazily behind them. As the doors closed, sealing them off from the subterranean clinic and lifting them toward the penthouse in the sky, Clara looked at her reflection in the polished steel.
She saw the scar on her shoulder peeking out from the collar of her scrubs. She didn't hate it anymore. It was the map that had led her out of the dark, into the fire, and finally, home. The debt was paid in full, but what she had earned in return was priceless.
