Chapter 3 - Whispers of Treason
The heavy library door creaked open, throwing a sliver of light across the polished floorboards.
Delia stood frozen in the shadows behind the door, her heart drumming a frantic rhythm. She watched through the crack as Garrett stepped into the room. His eyes bypassed the dark corners and went straight to the armchair where Lincoln Frost sat motionless, his chest rising and falling in deep, uninterrupted sleep.
Garrett took a step toward the sleeping man, his hand slipping inside his tailored jacket. Delia’s eyes widened as she caught the unmistakable glint of a silver pocket knife.
"Garrett."
The voice didn't come from the sleeping boss, nor did it come from Delia. It came from the doorway behind them.
Bruno Hale stood in the threshold, his massive frame blocking the exit, his arms crossed over his chest. His face was a mask of cold granite.
Garrett stopped instantly, his hand freezing inside his jacket. He spun around, his polished smile returning to his face with terrifying speed. "Bruno! You startled me. I was just... checking on Mr. Frost. I saw the door was slightly ajar."
"Mr. Frost is sleeping," Bruno said, his voice deep and menacing. "And when Mr. Frost sleeps, no one enters. Not even you."
"Of course," Garrett said smoothly, slowly withdrawing his hand from his jacket—empty. "I only wanted to ensure he was resting well. The incident in the alley tonight... it has everyone on edge."
"He's fine. Get out."
Garrett bowed his head slightly, a gesture of compliance that felt entirely performative, and slid past Bruno into the hallway.
Delia let out a long, silent breath, her shoulders sagging with relief. She stepped out from the shadows behind the door. Bruno looked at her, his expression softening by a fraction of a degree.
"You kept him asleep," Bruno observed, looking at his boss. "I haven't seen him sleep like that in two years."
"He was exhausted to the point of collapse," Delia said, walking back to her chair. "But you have a bigger problem than his health, Bruno."
The bodyguard’s eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
"Garrett," Delia whispered, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb Lincoln. "I heard him on the phone just now. He was talking to someone about a 'syndicate.' He said Lincoln is out of commission and that they should seize the docks. He was planning something, Bruno. And just now, when he walked toward Lincoln... he had a knife."
Bruno’s face didn't register surprise. Instead, a grim, weary understanding settled over his features. "I've suspected Garrett for months. He's ambitious. Too ambitious for his own good. But without proof, I couldn't move against him. Mr. Frost value’s loyalty, but he also demands absolute certainty before he acts."
"He was going to hurt him," Delia insisted.
"He wouldn't dare do it himself," Bruno corrected. "The knife was likely to plant something, or perhaps to cut a thread of Frost's clothing to track him. Garrett is a coward. He lets others do the bleeding for him." Bruno looked at Delia, his gaze searching. "You're a civilian, nurse. You shouldn't be in the middle of this."
"I didn't ask to be," Delia said, looking down at her worn medical bag. "But I won't stand by and watch a man get murdered in his sleep, no matter who he is."
Bruno nodded slowly. "Get some rest, Delia. Morning is coming. We will speak with Mr. Frost when he wakes."
The rest of the night passed in a tense, quiet vigil. Delia did not sleep. She sat in the chair, her eyes darting between the door and Lincoln, until the dark sky outside the floor-to-ceiling windows began to bleed into shades of pale blue and gold.
When the first rays of the sun hit the glass, Lincoln’s eyes snapped open.
He didn't wake up slowly or groggily. One moment he was asleep, and the next he was fully alert, his body coiled like a spring. He sat up, his hand instantly flying to his belt, relaxing only when he realized where he was.
He looked across the room and saw Delia sitting in the chair, her eyes tired but clear.
"You stayed," he said, his voice rough from sleep.
"I keep my word," Delia said, rising and stretching her stiff limbs. "How do you feel?"
Lincoln moved his left arm. The bandage was clean, and the stiffness in his jaw was gone. For the first time since she had met him, his eyes looked sharp, focused, and terrifyingly alive.
"Like I've returned from the dead," he murmured. He stood up, towering over her, and looked down at her with an intensity that made her breath hitch. "You did what no doctor in this city could do, Delia."
"I just sat here," she said, trying to downplay the flutter in her chest. "But before you thank me, we need to talk. Your house isn't as safe as you think it is."
Within ten minutes, Bruno was in the room, and Delia explained exactly what she had heard Garrett say on the phone.
As she spoke, Lincoln’s face grew colder, transforming into the ruthless figure of legend. The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.
"Garrett," Lincoln said softly, the name tasting like poison on his tongue. "I brought him into my organization. I gave him a life."
"He's working with the Moretti syndicate, boss," Bruno added. "They've been trying to get a foothold in the northern docks for months. If they take the docks, they control the shipping lanes."
Lincoln turned his gaze to Delia. "You've proven yourself invaluable, Delia Hart. Not just as a nurse, but as an ally. I don't let my allies go back to the streets."
"I have a life, Mr. Frost," Delia said, though her stomach twisted as she thought of her empty pockets and her niece, Naomi. "I have to find a job. I have to take care of my niece."
"You have a job," Lincoln declared, stepping closer. "Starting today, you are my private medical specialist. You will live here, under my protection. I will pay you five thousand dollars a week."
Delia’s jaw dropped. "Five... five thousand? That's insane."
"It's a fraction of what your silence and your skills are worth to me," Lincoln said, his tone leaving no room for refusal. "And as for your niece, she will be brought here. She will have the best tutors, the best security, and anything else she desires. You will never have to worry about unpaid bills or corrupt doctors again."
Delia stared at him, torn between the terrifying reality of his world and the desperate need to secure Naomi’s future. Five thousand dollars a week would change their lives forever. It would mean safety, education, and a real future for the little girl she loved more than life itself.
"Why are you doing this?" she whispered. "You don't know me."
"I know you saved my life last night," Lincoln said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "And in my world, that makes you the rarest thing on earth: someone I can trust."
Before Delia could answer, the library doors flew open.
Garrett stood in the doorway, his face pale, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Behind him, two of Lincoln’s guards stood with their hands on their holsters.
"Mr. Frost!" Garrett cried, his eyes darting frantically around the room. "We have a problem. The Moretti syndicate... they've just launched an attack on the northern docks. They knew exactly when our guard shifts changed."
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Lincoln didn't flinch. He slowly turned to face Garrett, a terrifying, predatory smile spreading across his face.
"Did they, Garrett?" Lincoln asked softly. "How very strange."
