Chapter 3 - Shadows and Steel
The next three weeks were a blur of intense physical therapy and suffocating security. The Vance estate became a fortress. Armed men patrolled the perimeter twenty-four hours a day.
I worked with Leo relentlessly. Once the toxic "medication" was completely out of his system, his body bounced back with the resilience only a child possesses. By day fourteen, he was walking with a cane. By day twenty, he chased a tennis ball across the parlor.
Every evening, Marcus would sit in the armchair in the corner of the room, nursing a glass of amber liquid, just watching us. The cold, ruthless crime boss disappeared when he looked at his son. But when his gaze shifted to me, there was a heavy, unspoken tension that made my skin prickle.
One night, after Leo had fallen asleep, Marcus caught my arm as I walked past him. His grip was firm but gentle.
"You're working too hard," he murmured, pulling me slightly closer.
"He's making progress," I whispered, acutely aware of how close his mouth was to my ear.
"I'm not talking about him," Marcus replied, his thumb brushing the pulse point on my wrist. "I'm talking about you, Clara. You haven't left this house in a month. You're a prisoner to my enemies."
"I'm exactly where I want to be," I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
May you like
His eyes darkened, dropping to my lips. But before he could close the distance, his phone vibrated brutally against the mahogany table. He answered it, and within a second, the tender man vanished, replaced by the monster of Boston.
"They hit the downtown warehouse," Marcus snarled into the phone. "Get the cars ready. We’re moving them to the safehouse."
