Chapter 4 - The Confession in the AftermathThe sirens were wailing in the distance, growing louder by the second, signaling that the neighborhood had finally called the police.
Inside the clinic, the smell of cordite mixed with antiseptic. Tom was wrapping a bloody forearm with a roll of gauze Jerry tossed him, while Jerry nervously swept up glass shards with a dustpan he’d found in the supply closet.
Nick walked slowly back into the recovery ward. His coat was stained with a smear of plaster dust, but he didn't have a scratch on him. He stopped in front of Jen's desk, where she was still crouched, trembling slightly despite her best efforts to look composed.
He reached down, offering a large, warm hand.
Jen stared at it for a second before taking it. He pulled her up effortlessly, keeping his grip on her hand just a fraction longer than necessary.
"You could have been killed," Jen whispered, her eyes scanning his face for injuries. "They... they said you were the target, but they threatened me."
"Which is why you can't stay here," Nick said, his tone absolute. "The Morentis know you patched up my dog. They know you're connected to me now. This clinic is compromised. Brooklyn isn't safe for you anymore."
"Compromised?" Jen pulled her hand away, stepping back with a flash of defiant anger. "This is my life, Nick! I built this practice brick by brick while you were out building a criminal empire! I'm not running away just because some mobsters decided to shoot up my waiting room!"
"You aren't listening to me," Nick snapped, his cool facade cracking for the first time. He stepped into her space, his green eyes burning with fierce desperation. "I didn't spend fourteen years making sure you stayed alive just to watch some low-level thug put a bullet in you because of who I am. You think I wanted this life? You think I wanted to walk away from the only pure thing I ever had?"
The room fell dead silent. Even Jerry stopped sweeping.
Jen looked up at him, her chest heaving. "Then why didn't you come back for me?" she asked, her voice breaking on the last word. "When you were safe. When you had power. Why stay away?"
"Because monsters don't get to keep good things, Jen," Nick whispered, his voice dropping to a raw, agonizing register. "I built an empire so no one could ever touch me, but the higher I climbed, the dirtier my hands got. I looked at myself in the mirror five years ago, ready to come find you, and I realized I was holding a loaded gun. I couldn't bring that into your world."
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Jen reached out, her hand resting softly against the lapel of his black coat, right over his heart. It beat with a steady, relentless rhythm. "And yet... here you are."
"Because Caesar got sick," Nick said, a faint, sad smile touching the corners of his mouth. "And fate has a cruel sense of humor."
