Chapter 1 - The Cold Truth
I stepped toward the most dangerous man in Chicago.
The armed guards in the room immediately shifted their weight.
Gabriel placed a massive hand on the grip of his weapon.
Sebastian Lombardi raised a single finger to stop his men.
The room fell so quiet I could hear the rain lashing against the floor-to-ceiling windows.
I set my worn therapy bag on the expensive Persian rug.
My hands were shaking, but I forced myself to take a deep breath.
I walked around to the back of his custom titanium wheelchair.
He smelled of expensive bourbon and faint cigar smoke.
"You have exactly one minute to prove you are not a waste of my time," he said.
His voice was deep and completely devoid of emotion.
I placed my fingertips against the base of his neck.
His skin was warm, but the muscles beneath were rigid like stone.
I closed my eyes and let my hands do what they did best.
I traced the cervical vertebrae, moving slowly down his spine.
Doctors rely on scans, but hands can feel the silent screams of trapped tissue.
I reached his lower lumbar region.
This was the exact place where medical history claimed the catastrophic damage had occurred.
Every specialist in the country said his spinal cord was completely severed.
But as I pressed my thumbs deep into the scarred tissue, I felt something impossible.
It was a faint, almost microscopic flutter of resistance.
Nerves do not fight back if they are entirely dead.
I pushed harder, digging my thumb into a knotted cluster of scar tissue.
Sebastian let out a sudden, sharp gasp.
His massive hands gripped the armrests of his wheelchair so hard the metal groaned.
Gabriel immediately pulled his gun and aimed it directly at my head.
"Step away from him right now," Gabriel barked.
I froze, staring at the dark barrel of the gun.
Sebastian held up his hand again, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.
A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
He slowly turned his head to look at me.
His empty eyes were now burning with a terrifying intensity.
"I felt that," he whispered.
It was the first time he had felt pain in his lower back in twenty years.
I nodded slowly, trying to keep my voice from trembling.
"Your spine is not severed," I told him.
I pulled my hands back and looked him dead in the eye.
"Someone deliberately pinned your nerves down with surgical wire."
His jaw clenched as the weight of my words settled over the room.
"Gabriel," Sebastian said quietly.
"Yes, boss," the enforcer replied.
"Bring the boy up to the penthouse."
My heart completely stopped in my chest.
"What are you talking about?" I asked, my voice rising in pure panic.
May you like
Sebastian finally gave me a genuine, chilling smile.
"Your son Oliver is no longer at your apartment, Clare."
