Chapter 2 – A Debt Written in Blood
Chapter 2 – A Debt Written in Blood (Part 1)
The promise lingered in the hospital room long after Gideon spoke it.
Sadie could almost feel it hanging in the air like another heartbeat.
Lena folded her arms across her chest, refusing to be intimidated by the six-foot-three man whose name made judges hesitate and politicians answer their phones.
"You don't get to decide what happens next," Lena said.
Gideon met her gaze without blinking.
"No."
His answer surprised both sisters.
"I don't."
For a long moment, nobody moved.
Finally, Gideon reached into the inside pocket of his jacket—not for a weapon, but for a sleek black business card. He placed it on the bedside table.
"If either of you needs anything, call."
Lena glanced at the card but made no move to pick it up.
"We won't."
Gideon nodded once.
"I hope that's true."
He turned and walked toward the door.
Just before leaving, he paused.
"The police will want to question you tomorrow."
Sadie's stomach tightened.
"They think I saw the shooters?"
"They know you did."
"I don't remember anything."
"You don't have to force yourself."
"I wasn't planning to."
Another beat of silence.
Then he added quietly, "Get some sleep, Miss Brooks."
The door closed behind him.
Only after his footsteps faded did Lena finally exhale.
"I hate him."
Sadie managed a weak smile.
"You've known him for about ninety seconds."
"I've seen enough."
Lena pulled a chair beside the bed and sat down.
"I almost lost you."
Her voice cracked.
"When the hospital called..." She swallowed hard. "They told me you might not survive the surgery."
Sadie reached for her sister's hand.
It took enormous effort.
Lena immediately clasped it.
"I'm still here."
"Barely."
"I've always been stubborn."
"You've always been impossible."
Sadie smiled faintly.
"So have you."
For the first time since entering the room, Lena laughed.
It lasted only a second.
Then her expression darkened again.
"The landlord came yesterday."
Sadie closed her eyes.
"Already?"
"He wanted the rent."
"I know."
"I lied."
Sadie looked at her.
"I told him you'd been transferred to a rehabilitation center."
"You didn't tell him I was shot?"
"He'd have asked for proof."
Sadie sighed.
"The car payment is due Friday."
"I know."
"My student loans?"
"I know."
"My health insurance barely covers—"
"Stop."
Lena squeezed her hand.
"We'll figure it out."
Sadie wanted to believe her.
But reality had never cared much for hope.
Three floors below, the atmosphere was entirely different.
Private elevators opened directly into the hospital's underground security garage.
Four black SUVs waited with their engines running.
Gideon stepped inside the first one.
His consigliere, Marcus DeLuca, was already seated across from him.
Marcus handed over a thick folder.
"The attack wasn't random."
"I assumed it wasn't."
"We've identified three shooters."
"Alive?"
Marcus hesitated.
"Two."
"The third?"
"Dead."
"By our men?"
"No."
Gideon's eyes narrowed.
"One of his own partners executed him during the escape."
Marcus slid several photographs across the leather seat.
"They were professionals."
"No gang tattoos."
"No criminal records."
"Military backgrounds."
"Someone hired them."
"Who?"
"We don't know."
Gideon looked through the photographs one by one.
Every detail mattered.
Weapon angles.
Escape routes.
Bullet trajectories.
Then one image stopped him cold.
It was a zoomed-in security frame from the greenhouse.
Beatrice sat frozen in terror.
Sadie was halfway through falling across her.
Five muzzle flashes lined up perfectly with the center of his mother's chest.
If Sadie hadn't moved...
His mother would have died instantly.
He stared at the image for nearly a minute.
Marcus spoke carefully.
"She wasn't the target."
Gideon looked up sharply.
"What?"
Marcus placed another file on top.
"Ballistics."
"The shooters adjusted their aim."
"When the therapist moved, every round followed her."
"They weren't trying to shoot through her."
"They intentionally kept firing."
A dangerous silence filled the SUV.
Gideon's voice became almost inaudible.
"Explain."
"They recognized her."
"Impossible."
"So we thought."
Marcus opened another folder.
"Sadie Brooks."
"Age twenty-nine."
"Doctor of Physical Therapy."
"No criminal history."
"No financial crimes."
"No known enemies."
"No connection to any organized crime family."
He turned another page.
"Except..."
Gideon waited.
"Three years ago she volunteered at a veterans' rehabilitation clinic."
"So?"
"One of her patients was former Army Ranger Daniel Mercer."
Recognition flickered in Gideon's eyes.
Mercer.
The name was familiar.
Marcus continued.
"Mercer disappeared eighteen months ago."
"Last month his body was found in Indiana."
"Murdered."
Gideon's expression hardened.
"What does that have to do with Sadie?"
Marcus placed a photograph on top of the file.
The image showed Sadie smiling beside several recovering veterans during a charity fundraiser.
One man stood beside her.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
A faded scar across his jaw.
Daniel Mercer.
"The same man who worked security for Victor Romano."
The name settled over the vehicle like poison.
Victor Romano.
The one man in Chicago ambitious enough to challenge the Vale organization.
The one man rumored to be building alliances with foreign syndicates.
Marcus leaned forward.
"We believe Mercer told Sadie something before he died."
Gideon frowned.
"Evidence?"
"None."
"Then why kill her?"
Marcus looked toward the rain-covered windshield.
"Maybe she doesn't know what she knows."
The following morning...
Sadie woke to voices outside her room.
Not doctors.
Not nurses.
Men.
Professional.
Calm.
She reached for the call button.
Before her fingers touched it, the hospital door swung open.
Two detectives entered.
One was gray-haired and tired.
The other couldn't have been older than thirty.
"Miss Brooks?"
She nodded.
"I'm Detective Owen Harris."
"This is Detective Mia Torres."
"We're investigating yesterday's shooting."
Sadie swallowed.
"Okay."
Harris smiled kindly.
"We're not here to pressure you."
"We just need to know what you remember."
Sadie closed her eyes.
Glass exploding.
Tea burning her wrist.
Beatrice screaming.
The crushing impact of bullets.
A man's face.
Then...
Something.
Something she hadn't noticed before.
A voice.
Low.
Male.
Outside the greenhouse.
Just before the shooting started.
She frowned.
"I... I heard someone."
Detective Torres leaned forward.
"What did he say?"
Sadie concentrated until her temples throbbed.
"It was only one sentence."
"What sentence?"
Her pulse quickened.
The words returned with terrifying clarity.
"Leave no witnesses."
The detectives exchanged a glance.
Harris slowly closed his notebook.
"What else?"
Sadie shook her head.
"Nothing."
But she was wrong.
Because as the detectives stood to leave...
A second memory surfaced.
Not a face.
Not a gun.
A tattoo.
A black raven spread across the back of one shooter's wrist.
For reasons she couldn't explain, the image filled her with dread.
Because somewhere, deep inside her mind...
May you like
She had seen that raven before.
She just couldn't remember where.
