Chapter 4 - Shadows in the Parking GarageThe hospital parking garage at midnight was a cathedral of concrete and flickering fluorescent lights, echoing with the drip of water pipes and the distant hum of ventilation fans. Bianca clutched her gym bag tightly to her chest, her sneakers squeaking against the damp pavement as she walked toward her compact sedan.
Tristan’s words from earlier echoed in her head like a curse. In their world, witnesses don't get to walk away.
She unlocked her car, but before she could open the door, a heavy hand clamped over her mouth from behind, and a jagged piece of cold steel pressed firmly against the side of her neck.
"Don't make a sound, nurse," a raspy, unfamiliar voice hissed in her ear. "Where is the Bellamy boy hiding the flash drive? Tell us, or your shift ends permanently tonight."
Panic, cold and suffocating, paralyzed her lungs. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't scream. Her mind flashed to the operating room, to Leo’s failing heart, and back to Tristan’s dark, warning eyes. She didn't know anything about a flash drive!
"I... I don't know..." she tried to choke out past the hand covering her face.
"Liar!" the attacker growled, shoving her against the cold metal side of her car.
Before the knife could bite into her skin, a deafening crack echoed through the concrete cavern.
The man holding her suddenly went limp, his grip loosening instantly as he collapsed to the wet pavement with a heavy thud. Behind him stood one of Tristan’s suit-clad enforcers, holding a silenced pistol, wisps of thin white smoke curling from the barrel.
Before Bianca could process what had just happened, another shadow detached itself from the concrete pillars.
Tristan stepped into the dim light. His coat was buttoned to the top, his face a mask of cold, unmitigated fury. He didn't look at the dead body sprawled near her tires; his entire focus was fixed on Bianca, who was sliding down the side of her car, gasping for air with tears streaming down her face.
Tristan dropped to one knee right in front of her, ignoring the dirty puddles on the ground. He grabbed her shoulders, his hands surprisingly gentle as he forced her to look at him.
"Bianca. Look at me. Are you hurt?" he demanded, his voice stripped of its usual cool composure, vibrating with raw, suppressed panic.
"They... they thought I knew something..." she sobbed, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she grabbed the lapels of his coat for anchor. "I didn't know anything, Tristan! I swear to God I didn't!"
"I know," Tristan whispered, pulling her against his chest in a protective embrace that defied every rule he had ever lived by. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of antiseptic and lavender soap. "I know you didn't. I'm sorry. This is my fault."
"Your family... your enemies..." she wept against his shirt, feeling the hard wall of his chest and the steady, heavy beat of his heart. "I'm just a nurse. Why won't they leave me alone?"
"Because," Tristan said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, lethal register as he pulled back to look her in the eyes, wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "You saved a Bellamy. And now, whether you want it or not... you belong to me."
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"I don't belong to anyone!" she spat back, anger flaring through her terror.
"Try telling that to the men who are going to hunt you down tomorrow morning," Tristan countered coldly, standing up and hoisting her to her feet. He didn't let go of her hand. "You're not sleeping in this apartment tonight. Pack a bag. You're coming with me."
