Chapter 4 ELIAS

CHAPTER 4

ELIAS

My twin sister, Elaine, was as annoying as ever during my short visit to her place. She never missed a chance to needle me about "settling down," even while I bounced her youngest on my knee and pretended not to hear. The woman had a mouth like a whip and the subtlety of a jackhammer.

Annoying.

Her children were equally chaotic. I left with more hair pulled from my head than I cared to count. They're the only ones who could bring me to my knees-literally and figuratively speaking. I loved them, of course, but my tolerance had its limits.

So, I left earlier than usual.

I had work to do anyway-my bimonthly check-in at Allure, one of my more legitimate fronts, though anyone in Chicago with half a brain knew better than to think that was all it was. Cathan had also just closed a deal with an arms supplier we'd been circling for months. Not many people could convince a man like Jakob Huber to sign anything, let alone trust again after what happened in Prague. But Cathan? He could talk a snake into shedding its skin twice.

As we pulled up to Allure, I stepped out of the car, adjusted my cufflinks, and took a moment to admire what I'd built.

What began as a simple front for laundering money and holding backroom meetings had grown into a full-blown empire. Allure wasn't just a casino anymore. It was a haven for sinners, dreamers, and liars-a place where people came to lose themselves. And their money.

Golden light streamed through the doors like liquid fire. Allure was beautiful from the outside. Impressive. Out of reach. But under the glittering chandeliers and champagne fountains, there were blood splatters and whispered words. We had secret rooms where we hid foreign diplomats, cartel members, and senators too drunk to remember the deals they'd signed the previous night. Some of those deals changed economies. Others ravaged lives.

Tonight, one nearly did the same to mine.

The ambush was not anticipated.

I was meant to have a meeting with an old business acquaintance-someone I once trusted during a lucrative real estate merger. But for as long as I've been in this business, I was stupid enough to believe he wouldn't try anything stupid.

Shit hit the fan when the bastard's thugs began firing. He'd obviously decided he wanted a larger share of my empire and thought a knife in my side would be the ideal way to start carving.

Fool.

We lived-barely. I'd had metal in my hand and blood in my mouth when it was all over. But one thing was for certain: that man was never seeing the light of day again. My boys had cleaned up the mess, but the wound? That one hung around.

I didn't need the private clinic. Too much watching. Too many questions. Too much noise.

I needed somewhere underfunded and unnoticed.

"Take me to the South Side," I told my driver. "The old county hospital."

It was a small place. Nameless. Anonymous. Forgotten. Like I was supposed to be.

By the time we arrived, the bleeding had not stopped. My sight was fogged, and even the ache in my bones-the one I'd grown used to carrying-seemed sharper.

They rushed me in through a back door, past the objections of underpaid staff. My men cut through the silence, boots echoing down the antiseptic, dimly lit corridors.

And that's when I saw him.

I hadn't expected anyone to be in the room.

The boy was sweeping, humming something soft under his breath, head down, back to me. Blonde curls dropped low over his brow, and though the janitor's uniform was baggy, I could see the way it clung to a lean, wiry body. He moved with practiced ease, as though he had learned long ago how to be in a place without taking up space in a room.

When he turned, his cornflower-blue eyes caught mine.

And time... shifted.

I don't remember how I stumbled forward. All I know is that when he tried to step aside, my arm instinctively extended, catching his arm for support.

"Don't," I whispered. My voice was raspy, like gravel.

He stood there, immobile and surely uncertain. Those bright, wide eyes darted from my wounded side to my face, and then back to my side once more. Not afraid of me, but afraid of what I was. It was clear he could perceive the sort of man I was. The kind who brought corpses into places like this.

Smart boy.

And yet he helped me. Gently. Without asking questions.

"You need to sit," he said softly.

I let him guide me to the chair, though my legs tried to fold. My suit was shredded, and my wound burned, but I watched him-this boy with shaking hands and eyes that were much too old for his years-cross the room to pick up a towel.

With the towel in hand, he went down beside me.

Up close, I saw the bruises. Tiny yellow and purple flowers just above his collar. The line of a scar tracing the side of his neck like a disappearing story. And even though his trembling fingers pressed the towel to my side, he did not avert his gaze. Not at the blood. Not at me.

That was something heart-wrenching.

I should have asked for a doctor. I should have told my men to leave the room. I should have done a dozen things differently. But I didn't.

I just stood there and stared at him.

"Your name?" I asked, not sure why it mattered.

"Louis," he whispered, so soft his voice was hard to hear.

Louis.

Even his name was delicate-like a breath you didn't dare let go of for fear of losing.

I leaned back in the chair, the agony of my wound holding me fast in the now. My heart thudded against my ribcage, and still, I couldn't look away.

He gazed back at me, something un-readable flickering across his face.

Pain. Curiosity. Recognition.

And there it was-that moment.

The kind of moment you didn't realize it until it was already making everything go round. Our eyes locked in the cold hush, and the world-my world-was turned upside down.

I knew nothing of him except for a name and welts.

He knew nothing of me except blood and the weight of my name.

But amidst that shattered quiet, something primeval came to life between us.

Not love. Not yet. I wasn't going to ever dwell on that again.

But the quiet, terrifying prelude to it.

I couldn't allow that to happen, so with a rude shrug, I stood up, leaving him to take his electrifying touch away from me.