Chapter 1 - The Darkest Night
Rain hammered the windows of Mercy General hard enough to make the pediatric wing feel underwater. I had been on my feet for sixteen hours. My scrubs smelled like antiseptic, baby formula, and the stale coffee I had spilled on myself around noon. My feet hurt. My hair had surrendered hours ago, falling out of its clip in damp strands.
All I wanted was to go home to our small apartment, heat leftover soup, and remind my seventeen-year-old brother Ethan that refreshing his college admissions portal every eight minutes would not improve his chances of getting into the engineering program.
Instead, halfway across the dimly lit hospital parking garage, I heard my name.
“Aurora Hayes.”
I stopped dead in my tracks. Male voices echoed from the level above—angry, sharp, and low. One spoke Spanish with a fast, venomous rhythm. Another answered in heavily accented English.
“Pediatric ward. Dark hair. Hayes.”
My hand instinctively went to my chest, touching my plastic hospital ID badge still clipped to my scrub top. Cold dread spread through my veins.
Then I heard another name.
Elena Vasquez.
Elena and I had gone through nursing school together, tied at the hip through late-night study sessions and brutal clinical rotations. Three weeks earlier, she had begged me to cover a double shift for her, her hands shaking so badly she nearly dropped her mug. She had insisted nothing was wrong—just a family emergency, just stress.
Clearly, she had lied.
Heavy, deliberate footsteps began descending the concrete stairwell nearby. My phone had died an hour ago. The nearest elevator was twenty yards away across an open, lit floor, and my rusty Honda civic was parked even farther.
Then I saw it: a sleek, midnight-black Maserati sitting under a flickering overhead fixture. Low, polished, and ridiculously expensive.
As a flashlight beam hit the concrete wall behind me, I noticed the rear passenger door was slightly unlatched. I made the worst sensible decision of my life. I ran.
I dropped into the backseat, pulling the heavy door closed without a sound just as the beam of light swept across the row of cars. Dark leather wrapped around me, smelling faintly of expensive cedarwood and cold rain. I slid down onto the floorboards, holding my breath until my lungs burned.
Footsteps approached. “Check everything,” a voice grunted nearby.
Then, the driver’s door opened and closed with a firm click. Someone had gotten in.
For two long seconds, there was total silence in the cabin. Then a low, smooth male voice spoke from the front seat:
“You have ten seconds to explain why you’re hiding in my car.”
I slowly raised my head, peering over the leather headrest. Dark, calculated eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. He was perhaps thirty-six, with thick black hair swept back from a sharply chiseled jaw and a charcoal suit that fit him like custom armor. A tiny, faint scar cut through the edge of his chin. He was strikingly handsome—beautiful in the way a coming storm was beautiful, thrilling only from a very safe distance.
“Please,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “There are men looking for me.”
“What men?” he asked without moving.
“I don’t know. They mentioned my friend Elena.”
Outside, a flashlight slid across the dark tinted window. The stranger glanced toward it, his posture entirely unbothered. “Stay down.”
I pressed myself flat against the carpet. A minute later, the footsteps faded into the echo of the garage.
“Thank you,” I breathed, reaching for the door handle to make a run for it.
“Don’t.”
I froze, my hand hovering over the latch. Outside, two oversized black SUVs pulled up, blocking the main exit of the garage.
The stranger turned around fully in his seat to face me. “You live on Maple Street. You drive the beat-up Honda three rows over. Your brother Ethan is seventeen. Lincoln High. Engineering track.”
Every tiny hair on my arms stood on end. “How do you know my brother?”
“Because twenty minutes ago, someone put a price on your head.”
I stared at him, my mind refusing to process the words. “That’s impossible. I’m a nurse. I take care of sick toddlers.”
“No,” his eyes were practically black in the dim cabin light. “What’s impossible is that you managed to get into my car before their men found you.”
“Who are you?”
For the first time, a small, quiet smile touched his lips. There was no warmth in it whatsoever.
“Lorenzo Dante Costa.”
The name meant nothing to me, but the sheer gravity with which he spoke it sent a chill down my spine.
“That is probably the healthiest thing about you,” he noted dryly.
I reached for the door handle again and pulled. Nothing happened. “Open the door.”
“Not yet.”
“This is kidnapping!”
“This is the only reason you will be breathing by tomorrow morning.”
The Maserati’s engine growled to life with a low, powerful rumble.
“I’m not going anywhere with you!” I snapped, panic finally overriding my shock.
He looked back at me through the mirror as he shifted into gear. “You already did.”
“Take me home.”
“Your home is already being watched.”
My breath caught in my throat. “Ethan? Where is my brother?”
“Safe for the moment. My men picked him up from your apartment five minutes ago.”
“What do you mean, your men? You took my brother?!”
Lorenzo pulled the car smoothly toward a private, restricted exit at the rear of the garage, effortlessly bypassing the SUVs at the main gate.
“Elena didn’t steal hospital supplies, Aurora,” his voice went dead quiet, dangerous and smooth.
“What are you talking about?”
“She stole confidential information.” He paused, letting the silence stretch between us. “About your father.”
May you like
My heart stopped completely. “My father died seven years ago in a factory fire.”
Lorenzo accelerated into the torrential rain of the city streets. “Your father didn't die in a fire, Aurora. And what Elena stole proves he’s still very much alive.”
