Chapter 4 - The Threat in the Shadows
By Monday, the war for the Mercer empire had turned dirty. Marcus Vance’s arrest had fractured the organization, and the Valetti family was moving quickly to harvest the pieces.
Nora had returned to her small apartment in the working-class neighborhood of Bridgeport to pack her things. She couldn't stay there anymore; Caleb had made it clear that her association with Vincent made her a prime target for retailiation.
She was shoving her books into a cardboard box when the lock on her front door clicked.
Nora spun around, grabbing a heavy brass candlestick from the mantle.
The door opened, and Melissa Grant, her former supervisor from Lakeshore Medical, walked in. She wasn't alone. Two men in cheap leather jackets stood behind her, their hands buried inside their pockets.
"Melissa?" Nora said, her heart dropping into her stomach. "How did you get my keys?"
"The landlord was very cooperative when these gentlemen offered him five thousand dollars, Nora," Melissa said, her voice tight, her expensive makeup doing nothing to hide the desperate terror in her eyes. "You really messed everything up, didn't you? You were supposed to let him die in that trauma room. Melissa Grant was supposed to be the one who handled the cleanup, and the Valettis were going to take care of my brother’s gambling debts."
Nora stared at her. The dirty shifts, the inventory assignments, the sudden change in the trauma wing—it hadn't been standard workplace bullying. It had been an setup. Melissa had been paid to ensure Vincent Mercer never left the hospital alive.
"He’s stable, Melissa," Nora said, keeping her voice level, her eyes darting toward the window. "The federal government is already looking into the organization. If you do this now—"
"We don't want him, Nurse Bennett," one of the men in the leather jackets said, stepping forward. He had a scarred lip and smelled of stale tobacco. "We want the routing codes he changed on Friday night. The ones he gave to you for safekeeping."
"I don't have any codes," Nora said honestly. "I’m his nurse, not his accountant."
"You’re the only thing he cares about," Melissa snapped, her composure completely breaking. "The whole city is talking about it! The ice king who hasn't touched a woman in eleven years is living in a penthouse with a fat nurse from the overnight shift! You have the codes, or you are the leverage. Either way, you're coming with us."
The man with the scarred lip reached for Nora’s arm.
Nora didn't back away. She had spent ten years lifting two-hundred-pound patients and managing combative drug addicts in the ER. She swung the heavy brass candlestick with every ounce of her weight.
It struck the man squarely across the jaw with a sickening crack. He stumbled backward, howling in pain as blood erupted from his mouth.
Nora turned to sprint toward the fire escape, but the second man caught the hood of her cardigan, dragging her down onto the hardwood floor. The box of books overturned, scattering across the room.
"You bitch!" the second man yelled, raising his fist.
The front door didn't just open—it was blown off its hinges.
The heavy wood splintered inward, and Caleb Rourke stepped through the frame like a demon unleashed from hell. He didn't use a gun. He caught the second man by the throat, lifting him completely off the floor, and slammed him into the brick wall with a force that knocked the man unconscious instantly.
Vincent Mercer walked in behind him. He was wearing a dark gray suit, gloves on his hands, his face a mask of absolute, terrifying slaughter. He didn't look like a postoperative patient. He looked like the reaper.
Melissa Grant fell to her knees, screaming, covering her face.
Vincent didn't look at her. He dropped to his knees beside Nora, his gloved hands instantly reaching for her face, his eyes searching hers with a frantic, desperate intensity. "Nora. Nora, look at me. Did they touch you? Did they hurt you?"
"I'm fine," she breathed, her hand reaching up to touch his arm. "I hit the first one with a candlestick."
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Vincent let out a ragged breath, his forehead resting against hers for a single, brief second. "Good girl."
He stood up, looking down at Melissa Grant. "Caleb. Take her to the harbor. Tell the Valettis that if I see another one of their men within five miles of this woman, I won't just freeze their accounts. I will bury their children under the new stadium foundation."
