Chapter 3 - The Price of a Miracle
“Time,” Julian said.
His voice wasn't loud, but it shattered the spell hanging over the room. Several men let out breaths they seemed to have been holding for five minutes.
Cyrus’s head jerked up at the sound of Julian’s voice, his lip curling back instantly, a low threat echoing in his throat. But Maisie simply kept her fingers resting on his neck, leaning her weight against his side, and the dog didn't move toward Julian. He stayed glued to the little girl’s side like a shield.
Julian walked into the dirt ring, his leather dress shoes stepping carefully over the debris. He stopped three feet away, looking down at the strange pair sitting in the dust.
“Who trained you?” Julian asked her.
Maisie turned her face toward the sound of his shoes. “Nobody. I just listen.”
“She’s a kid, Mr. Hart!” Leo shouted, finally tearing himself away from Roman as the enforcer lowered his guard in shock. Leo ran into the ring, dropping to his knees beside Maisie and wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “Maisie, are you okay? Did he touch you?”
“I’m fine, Leo,” Maisie said, her small hand still stroking the rough fur on Cyrus’s neck. The dog let out a soft rumble, accepting Leo’s presence only because Maisie’s shoulder remained relaxed against his chest. “He’s a good dog. He just has a headache.”
Julian looked at Leo, then back at the girl. The dark, cynical mind that had built a criminal empire worth fifty million dollars was working rapidly behind his icy gray eyes.
He had expected a man to step into that cage and get mauled, serving as a brutal reminder to his crew that strength alone controlled this city. Instead, a blind child had just stripped his most terrifying asset of its violence using a wordless song and a pair of yellow boots.
If the word got out that Julian Hart’s killer hound had been tamed by a seven-year-old girl, the rival families in the Northern District would laugh.
Unless the girl belonged to him.
“You owe twelve thousand dollars, Doyle,” Julian said, looking down at Leo.
Leo swallowed hard, holding his sister tighter. “Yes, sir. I have four hundred tonight. I can get the rest—I’ll work extra shifts at the docks—”
“The debt is cleared,” Julian interrupted flatly.
Leo blinked. “What?”
Julian reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a heavy black leather checkbook and a sleek fountain pen, and signed his name with three swift strokes. He tore the check out and tossed it onto the dirt in front of Leo’s knees.
“One million dollars,” Julian said. “As promised.”
Leo stared at the paper in the dirt. His breath came in ragged, disbelieving hitches. “Mr. Hart... I... I can’t take this—”
“You’re not taking it for free,” Julian said, his eyes locking onto Maisie. “That dog cost me eighty thousand dollars and three ruined handlers. He’s useless to me without her. Effective immediately, you and your sister move into the guest quarters at my estate in Crestmont.”
Leo’s face went completely white. “What? No. No, Mr. Hart, we have an apartment in the East Ward—we can’t live in your—”
“You have an apartment with a broken heater, three unpaid months of rent, and two loan sharks from the Marcone family waiting outside your door,” Julian said, his voice dropping into a razor-sharp whisper. “You take the money, you move into my house, and your sister keeps that animal calm. If you refuse, I enforce your original loan contract tonight.”
Leo looked at the armed guards standing at the ring’s edge. He looked at the check in the dirt. He had no leverage, no weapons, and no escape.
Maisie reached out, her small fingers finding her brother’s hand and squeezing it tightly. “It’s okay, Leo,” she whispered softly. “The big house has a garden. I can hear the trees from here.”
Julian’s scar twitched slightly at her words. The Crestmont estate was fifteen miles away, sitting on fifty acres of private forest. There was no way she could hear those trees.
May you like
And yet, as he looked down at her serene, milky-blue eyes, Julian felt a cold, unfamiliar shiver run down his spine.
“Roman,” Julian commanded, turning his back on them as he walked toward his waiting armored SUV. “Pack their things from the apartment. Bring them to the West Wing. And tell the vet to bring a mobile unit to the house tonight. That dog needs a bath and an iron supplement.”
