Chapter 2 - The Iron Gates of Costa ManorThe SUV’s armored tires crunched over crushed white gravel as they passed through twelve-foot wrought-iron gates topped with security cameras and motion sensors.
Costa Manor looked less like a home and more like a fortress carved out of limestone and black glass, perched on a private bluff overlooking Lake Michigan. The storm had cleared, leaving behind a cold, gray dawn that mirrored the bleak terror settling deep into Chloe's chest.
Dr. Reynolds sat trembling in the passenger seat, clutching a portable oxygen tank to his chest like a shield.
"We're going to die, Chloe," the veterinarian whispered. "We're going to end up at the bottom of the lake wearing concrete boots because a gangster's dog got shot."
"Shut up, Reynolds," Chloe hissed back, though her own hands were shaking as she unbuckled her seatbelt.
The heavy car doors opened simultaneously. Two armed guards in dark wool coats stood waiting in the freezing wind. Before Chloe could even plant her boots on the cobblestone courtyard, Gabriel appeared beside her door, offering a hand that she pointedly ignored.
She hopped out on her own, her chin raised high, refusing to look intimidated by the imposing architecture or the armed men surrounding them.
"Brutus needs continuous intravenous antibiotics every four hours," Chloe said coldly, marching past Gabriel toward the massive double doors. "If his wound gets infected, all your security guards won't save him from sepsis. Where is the makeshift surgical suite you set up?"
Gabriel watched her stride past him, a flicker of genuine amusement crossing his dark features.
"Right this way, Doctor," he murmured, following close behind.
Inside, the mansion was a labyrinth of vaulted ceilings, priceless oil paintings, and heavy mahogany trim. They rushed Brutus—still sleeping heavily under mild sedation—to a ground-floor suite that had been hastily converted into a high-end veterinary intensive care unit, complete with oxygen monitors and sterile surgical trays.
As Chloe immediately set to work checking the pit bull’s IV line and listening to his breathing, Gabriel stood silently in the doorway, his eyes never leaving her face.
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"You're remarkably calm for someone who was just shot at," Gabriel observed.
"I grew up with three older brothers in a house with broken plumbing and no heat," Chloe snapped without looking up. "Bullets are just louder."
