She Helped the Injured Mafia Boss Without Asking

Clara pressed her back against the damp brick wall of the alley, trying to steady her breathing.

The sound of shattering wood and tearing metal echoed down the street as Elias Vance’s men breached her apartment.

She couldn't run.

If they were tossing her place, they already suspected she had something to do with Kaine’s disappearance.

If she ran, she would look guilty, and the Kaine Syndicate had eyes on every bus station, train depot, and highway exit in the city.

Clara took a deep breath, smoothing the front of her canvas jacket.

She stepped out of the alley and walked purposefully toward her own front door.

“Stop right there!” a guard shouted, raising an assault rifle and aiming it at her chest.

Clara didn't flinch.

“That’s my apartment,” Clara said, her voice loud and steady. “What the hell are you doing to my door?”

Elias Vance turned around slowly.

He had sharp, aristocratic features and eyes that were completely devoid of human warmth.

He looked Clara up and down, evaluating her cheap boots, her tired eyes, and her frayed jacket.

“Are you Clara Hayes?” Elias asked smoothly.

“I am.”

Elias gestured for his men to lower their weapons, though they kept their hands hovering near the triggers.

“I apologize for the intrusion, Dr. Hayes,” Elias said, emphasizing the title she hadn't legally held in two years. “But time is of the essence, and you were not home to answer the bell.”

Clara crossed her arms.

“I’m not a doctor anymore, and I don't know who you are.”

“My name is Elias Vance. I represent a man who may have visited you late last night.”

“I don't see patients at night,” Clara lied effortlessly.

Elias smiled a thin, terrifying smile.

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, plastic biohazard bag.

Inside the bag was a bloody blue nitrile glove.

“My men found this in your trash can, Dr. Hayes,” Elias said softly. “The blood type on this glove matches my employer’s perfectly.”

Clara felt a cold spike of dread, but she kept her face entirely blank.

“I cut my hand chopping vegetables yesterday,” Clara countered. “I’m type O-negative, a universal donor. Lots of people have that blood type.”

Elias stepped closer, invading her personal space.

“My employer was severely injured in an ambush last night. He is currently missing. We have reason to believe he sought medical attention in this area before his communications went dark.”

“If you treated him, and you are hiding his location, I will have my men burn this building down around you.”

Clara looked directly into his soulless eyes.

“I don't know who your employer is, but nobody came to my door last night.”

Elias stared at her for a long, heavy moment.

Suddenly, a loud shout came from inside Clara’s apartment.

One of the men walked out the shattered front door, holding a shiny, heavy object in his massive hand.