Chapter 1 - THE TETHER OF BLOODThe silence inside the ambulance was deafening, broken only by the rhythmic beep of the cardiac monitor and the harsh sound of rain beating against the roof.
Griffin sat on the narrow metal bench opposite the gurney, his tailored suit ruined, water dripping from his jaw onto the floorboards. Across from him, Sloan’s face was deathly pale under the flickering fluorescent strip lights. Her breath fogged the plastic oxygen mask with every shallow exhale.
Beside Griffin, squeezed onto the bench and clutching his leather sleeves like lifelines, sat Iris and Hazel. They hadn't let go of him since he carried them out of the house into the back of his SUV.
"Her pulse is dropping. V-tach setting in!" the paramedic yelled over the roar of the siren as the ambulance rounded a sharp turn toward Swedish Medical Center. "Get the paddles ready!"
"What are you doing to her?" Griffin barked, his voice laced with dangerous authority as he stood up, towering over the narrow space.
"Sir, sit down! She’s going into cardiac arrest!"
Griffin’s heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped beast. He had destroyed rival corporations, bankrupted billionaires, and bent entire governments to his whim with a single phone call—yet he was utterly helpless watching the only woman he had ever loved slip away.
"Fix her," Griffin snarled, his emerald eyes burning through the lead medic. "If her heart stops, I will buy this entire hospital system just to fire every person who touched her tonight."
"Griffin..."
A tiny whisper cut through the chaos. It wasn't the paramedics. It was Hazel.
She was looking at the monitor, her tear-stained face pale under the harsh lights. "Mommy said... if she ever went to sleep and didn't wake up... we had to give you the golden key."
Griffin froze. "What key, sweetheart?"
Hazel reached inside her knit blanket and pulled out a small, heavy brass key attached to a worn leather strap around her neck. "She said you’d know which lock it opens. She said... it was the only way to save us from him."
Him?
Before Griffin could ask another question, the monitor shrieked a flatline tone. The paramedics lunged forward with defibrillator pads.
"Clear!"
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Sloan’s body arched violently off the gurney.
Outside, a sleek black sedan with tinted windows tailgated the ambulance through the torrential Seattle rain. Inside the sedan, a man lifted a radio to his lips. "Target is in transit. The girls are with Drake. Move to Phase Two."
