Chapter 2 - The Whispering WallsThe medical wing smelled of antiseptic and ozone. Dr. Vance, a brilliant trauma surgeon whose eyes looked entirely too tired for a man of his age, shone a penlight into my eyes before pressing a stethoscope to my ribs.
"You have an advanced pulmonary mass," Dr. Vance stated bluntly, not bothering to sugarcoat it. "Without specialized thoracic surgery, you have maybe three months. Rosetti's money can buy you the best surgeons in Zurich. But you won't survive the recovery if your stress levels spike. Why did you agree to this?"
"Have you seen the alternative?" I retorted, pulling my sweater tight. It still smelled faintly of the rain and iron-rich blood from the alley. "I had eight dollars and an eviction notice. At least here, I have a bed."
Dr. Vance paused, his expression hardening. "Be careful whose bed you sleep in, son. The Rosetti family tree has deep roots, and half of them are rotten. Someone let the hunters into the outer perimeter tonight. The security codes weren't hacked; they were given."
My breath hitched. "Inside job?"
Before Vance could answer, a piercing, high-pitched scream echoed from the upper floor.
It was Lily.
I didn't wait for Vance or Marcus. I bolted out of the medical room, my lungs burning, the pain in my chest flaring into a white-hot agony. I sprinted up the grand staircase, ignoring the shouts of security guards, and threw open the heavy oak doors of Lily’s bedroom.
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The room was freezing. The balcony doors were blown wide open, rain lashing against the velvet curtains. Lily was huddled in the center of her massive canopy bed, trembling violently, staring at a single object resting on her white duvet.
A severed silver wolf bracelet—identical to the one she wore—dripping with fresh, dark blood.
