Chapter 2 - THE SMOKE OF TRUTH
The rain had turned from a light drizzle into a torrential downpour by the time Silas’s black sedan tore through the narrow, slick streets of the city.
I sat in the back seat, staring out the window, my hands clenched so tightly in my lap that my nails dug into my palms. I didn't care. I couldn't feel it. All I could see was the image of my mother, frail, confused, unable to walk without help, trapped inside a burning building.
Beside me, Silas Vance sat in perfect silence. He didn't offer empty platitudes. He didn't tell me everything would be fine. He simply sat there, his presence a dark, immovable wall against the chaos of the world.
"Faster," Silas said to his driver, Dante, his voice devoid of emotion but carrying a cold urgency.
"We are running every light, boss," Dante replied, his eyes fixed on the wet asphalt ahead.
I looked down at my hands, realizing they were trembling so violently I couldn't keep them still. Suddenly, a large, warm hand covered mine. Silas didn't squeeze, but the weight of his hand was a physical anchor.
"Look at me, Celine," he commanded gently.
I turned my head. His dark eyes were fixed on mine, intense and unyielding.
"I have two crews already at the clinic," Silas said. "They were there before we left the restaurant. If she is in that building, they will get her out. My men do not fail."
"Why?" I whispered, my voice cracking. "Why are you doing this? You don't know me. You don't owe me anything."
"You asked me for help," he said simply. "In my world, when someone asks for my help, and I choose to give it, they become my responsibility. And I take care of what is mine."
The implication of his words hung in the air, heavy and loaded. What is mine.
Before I could process it, the car screeched to a halt.
We had arrived. The street was blocked by three fire engines, their red and blue lights flashing frantically against the dark brick facades of the surrounding buildings. Smoke, thick and grey, billowed from the upper floor of the Saint Jude Clinic.
I didn't wait for Dante to open the door. I threw it open and tumbled out into the pouring rain, my thin uniform soaking through instantly.
"Mom!" I screamed, running toward the yellow police tape that cordoned off the area. "Mom!"
A firefighter caught me by the shoulders, pushing me back. "Ma'am, you can't go in there! The building is unstable!"
"My mother is inside!" I shrieked, fighting against his grip. "She can't walk! She’s on the second floor!"
"We have teams inside right now—"
"Get your hands off her."
The voice wasn't loud, but it possessed a freezing authority that made the firefighter instantly release me. Silas stood behind me, an umbrella held over his head by Dante, though he ignored the dry shelter it offered, stepping into the rain beside me.
Another man, dressed in a dark suit soaked through by the rain, ran up to Silas, breathing heavily. "Mr. Vance. We found her. She’s safe. We got her out through the fire escape before the stairs collapsed."
A sob of pure relief tore from my throat. "Where is she? Where is she?"
The man pointed toward an ambulance parked fifty yards away. I didn't wait. I ran through the mud and rain, my shoes slipping on the wet asphalt, until I reached the back of the emergency vehicle.
There she was. My mother, wrapped in a thick wool blanket, an oxygen mask over her face. She looked smaller than usual, her eyes wide with confusion, but she was breathing. She was alive.
"Mom," I sobbed, throwing my arms around her. She patted my back weakly, her hands trembling.
"Celine... baby," she whispered, her voice muffled by the mask. "They... they took me out. Nice men. In suits."
I looked back.
Silas Vance stood in the rain, a few yards away, watching us. He didn't come closer. He didn't try to intrude on our moment. He just stood there, the flashing red lights of the ambulance casting a crimson glow over his sharp features. He looked like a dark angel of mercy, or a devil waiting to collect his due.
A paramedic stepped in front of me, checking my mother's vitals. "She's stable, but she inhaled a lot of smoke. We need to transport her to the general hospital for observation. She’ll need a private room and specialized respiratory care for the next few days."
My heart sank. "A private room? I... I can't afford that. Her insurance doesn't cover—"
"It is already taken care of," a voice interrupted.
Silas had approached, his footsteps silent despite the wet pavement. He looked at the paramedic. "She is going to the private wing at St. Margaret’s. Dr. Alighieri is expecting her. Prepare her for transport."
The paramedic blinked, clearly recognizing the name of the most prestigious—and expensive—private hospital in the state. "Yes, sir. Right away."
"No," I protested, standing up and facing Silas. "I can't accept this. This... this will cost thousands. I can't pay you back. I already work two jobs, I—"
Silas stepped closer, his shadow falling over me, shutting out the rest of the chaotic world. He reached out, his gloved fingers gently catching my chin, tilting my face up to his.
"I do not want your money, Celine," he said softly, his eyes dark and unreadable.
"Then what do you want?" I whispered, terrified of the answer.
May you like
His gaze flicked down to my lips, then back to my eyes.
"I want a wife," he said.
