Chapter 3 - Shadows Over St. Catherine’s
The steady beep of Milo’s heart monitor was the only anchor holding Claire to reality as 4:30 AM approached. The shock of Nico’s confession still echoed in her mind, tearing down two years of carefully constructed resentment, leaving her raw and exposed.
Suddenly, the red emergency light above the hallway door flickered.
Through the glass panel of Room 204, Claire saw Santo step back from the elevator bank, his hand slipping inside his jacket. His posture was instantly predatory.
Nico was at the door in less than a second, opening it a crack. "Report."
"Elevator three just came up from the basement parking garage," Santo whispered, his eyes scanning the quiet corridor. "It wasn't scheduled. Maintenance said the subterranean level was locked down ten minutes ago."
"How many?" Nico asked, his voice instantly dropping into tactical calm.
"Four on the feed before the security camera went dark," Santo replied. "Tactical gear. Suppressed weapons. They aren't local police, Boss. It's Gianna’s cleanup crew."
Claire gasped, rushing to Milo's bed and wrapping her arms protectively around the sleeping boy. "Nico... they followed you here?"
Nico turned to her, his expression colder than stone. "When I ordered my men to raid the research facility in New Haven for Milo’s medication, I had to drop my electronic blinders. Gianna’s network caught the signal. He knows I left the estate."
"He knows about Milo?" Claire whimpered, terror clutching her chest.
"He knows I'm at a hospital," Nico corrected. "He thinks I'm vulnerable here." He turned to Santo. "Take team two to the fire stairs. Lock down the medical gas valves so they can't flood the floor with toxin. Nobody reaches this corridor alive."
"Understood, Boss," Santo said, bowing his head before disappearing down the hallway with three armed men.
Nico stepped back into Room 204 and locked the reinforced door. He pulled a sleek matte-black firearm from his shoulder holster, checking the chamber with a quiet, metallic clack.
"Nico, please," Claire begged, standing between him and Milo's bed. "There are children on this floor! This is a hospital!"
"Which is why none of them will cross that threshold," Nico said, stepping up to her. He reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a small, heavy silver key on a chain, slipping it over Claire’s head.
"What is this?" she asked, holding the cold metal.
"The key to the panic vault beneath my private estate in the valley," Nico told her, his dark eyes locking onto hers with absolute intensity. "If anything happens to me tonight—"
"Don't say that!" Claire snapped, grabbing his lapels. "Don't you dare talk like that after what you just told me!"
"Listen to me, Claire!" Nico commanded, his hands coming up to grip her face gently, his thumbs resting against her cheekbones just as he used to. "If the worst happens, Santo will get you and Milo to that vault. Inside is enough cash, documentation, and international protection to keep you both safe forever. Promise me you’ll take it."
"I don't want your money, Nico!" she cried, tears spilling over her lashes. "I want my son to live! And I... I don't want you to die!"
Nico stared at her, a faint, devastating smile touching his lips. "You still care."
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Before she could answer, a muted thump-thump-thump of suppressed gunfire echoed from the stairwell down the hall, followed by the heavy thud of bodies hitting the floor.
Nico kissed her forehead—a quick, burning mark of devotion—and turned toward the door, his weapon raised.
