Chapter 2
The man didn't hesitate.
Without a word of judgment, he stepped forward, wrapped two powerful arms around my trembling shoulders, and pulled me flush against his chest.
He was warm, smelling of cedarwood, cold rain, and expensive wool. His heartbeat thudded under my cheek—slow, steady, and anchor-like. It was the exact counterweight my frantic nervous system needed. I buried my face into his dark coat and sobbed, shuddering until the iron band around my ribs finally slackened.
"I’ve got you," he murmured, his deep voice vibrating straight into my temples. "You’re safe. Breathe into it. One, two, three..."
For thirty seconds, reality shrank to the circle of his arms. Then the cold shock of my situation came roaring back.
*Sophia.*
I pulled back abruptly, wiping my face with the back of my trembling hand. "I’m sorry. I—I’m so sorry. My sister was in an accident. Mount Sinai. I have to get there right now."
The man stood up, towering over me. His dark eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion. "Mount Sinai is fifteen blocks uptown, and Midtown traffic is gridlocked. A cab will take forty minutes. My car is parked around the corner. Come on."
"I can't just get into a car with a stranger—"
"You're a nurse, aren't you?" he cut in, nodding at the hospital lanyard hanging out of my tote bag. "You know what golden hour means in trauma. Let me drive you."
Every survival instinct I had screamed against it, but desperation won. Within two minutes, I was in the passenger seat of a sleek, black luxury sedan. He drove with surgical precision, weaving through heavy Manhattan congestion while I stared at my trembling knees, praying Sophia was still breathing.
When we screeched to a halt outside the Mount Sinai Emergency entrance, I reached for the door handle. "Thank you. I don't even know your name—"
"Julian," he said softly. "Go, Mia. Take care of your sister."
A chill ran down my spine. *I never told him my name.*
I turned around to ask how he knew, but his gaze was fixed on the emergency bay doors, his jaw set in a hard line. "Go. Don't look back."
I scrambled out and sprinted through the automatic sliding doors into the chaotic buzz of the emergency department. I flashed my hospital ID at the charge nurse, breathless. "Sophia White. Where is she?"
"Trauma Bay 2," the nurse said, her eyes dropping in sympathy.
I burst through the double doors. Sophia, my vibrant, twenty-two-year-old baby sister, lay motionless under the harsh fluorescent lights. Intubation tube down her throat. Monitors chiming in rapid rhythm. Multiple lacerations mapped across her pale face.
Dr. Martinez, Mount Sinai’s chief of trauma, stepped away from the bed. "Mia. She sustained a severe concussion, three broken ribs, and internal bleeding. We managed to stabilize her, but she’s in a medically induced coma."
"What happened?" My voice cracked. "Who hit her?"
Dr. Martinez exchanged a tense glance with a detective lingering by the wall.
"It wasn't a random hit-and-run, Mia," Martinez whispered, keeping his voice low. "Sophia was running across 5th Avenue when a town car struck her. The driver fled, but the vehicle was registered to the Vance Corporation. And according to the traffic cams... she was running away from someone who was chasing her on foot."
My breath seized.
I reached into my pocket to pull out my phone and felt a heavy metal object I hadn't noticed before. I slid it out.
It was an engraved platinum lighter that must have slipped out of Julian’s coat when he hugged me. On the polished metal, a single crest was etched: a serpent wrapped around a letter *V*.
Julian Vance.
Before my mind could connect the dots, a sharp commotion erupted in the hallway outside. Security shouts echoed off the tile.
I walked to the observation window and peered out. Paramedics were rolling a stretcher through the trauma bay under armed police guard. On the gurney lay a man in handcuffs, his forehead bleeding, his dark gaze cutting straight through the crowd—and locking onto me.
May you like
It was Julian.
***
