Chapter 2
Emily did not scream.
She wanted to. The sound rose in her throat, hot and wild, but Lily was sleeping behind that door, and Lily had already heard enough fear in her short life.
So Emily stood there, with one hand on the doorknob and the other pressed to her stomach, while the most feared man in Chicago told her that her act of mercy had placed a target on the only person she loved.
“You need to leave,” she said.
Nathan’s eyebrow lifted slightly. “And go where?”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.”
Emily laughed once, bitter and breathless. “You think I care about your problems right now? I pulled you out of a garage because I thought someone was being murdered. That does not mean you get to bring war into my apartment.”
Nathan did not answer immediately. He reached for the edge of the table and steadied himself. His face tightened, the poison still grinding through his body. For a moment, beneath the cold authority, Emily saw pain.
Then it vanished.
“I can’t go to my house,” he said. “It will be watched. I can’t call my lawyer because Warren may own him. I can’t call my usual men because I don’t know which ones are alive, bought, or afraid. Last night was not a random attack. It was a coup.”
Emily wanted the word to sound ridiculous.
It did not.
Nathan moved to the window and looked through the gap in the curtain. Dawn was turning the brick buildings gray. Cars hissed through wet streets below.
“Warren Vale stood beside me for thirteen years,” he said. “I gave him power, money, access. He knew every door and every weakness. Over the last month, he removed my loyal men one by one. One sent out of state. One arrested on old charges. One vanished. Every excuse sounded reasonable at the time.”
His jaw tightened.
“I was standing alone before I knew the room was empty.”
Emily listened despite herself.
She had spent her life around men who threw money on tables and spoke as if waitresses had no ears. She knew the smell of arrogance. But this was something different. Nathan was not complaining. He was rebuilding the crime scene in his mind.
“What happened at the club?” she asked.
He turned.
“You remember?”
“I remember rich men acting scared when you walked in.”
A faint, humorless smile touched his mouth. “Smart girl.”
“I’m not a girl.”
“No,” he said. “You’re not.”
The way he said it made her look away first.
She told him everything she had seen that night. The private dining room. The silver-haired man. The blond man with the scar. The expensive guest who had spilled wine on her on purpose and called her trash in front of half the room. She had bent down, apologized, and cleaned it up because she needed the tip jar more than she needed pride.
At that, Nathan’s expression changed.
“What did he look like?”
Emily described him. The thick silver hair, the heavy signet ring, the smooth voice, the way other men stepped aside.
“Silas Ward,” Nathan said quietly. “Warren’s collector.”
“Collector?”
Nathan’s mouth hardened. “Debts. Favors. People.”
Emily felt cold spread across her skin.
From the bedroom came another cough. Softer this time, but long enough for Emily’s fear to shift back into something more familiar: worry.
She went in before Nathan could speak.
Lily was awake, pale against the pillow, her brown hair tangled around her face. Her eyes brightened when she saw Emily.
“Emmy?” she whispered. “Who’s the man?”
Emily sat beside her and brushed hair from her forehead. “A sick friend. He’ll leave soon.”
Lily looked toward the doorway. Nathan stood there, filling the frame like a shadow trying not to enter.
“He looks sad,” Lily said.
May you like
Emily’s breath caught. Children noticed things adults buried.
“He’s tired,” Emily said.
