Chapter 2 - Shadows in the HallwayThe digital clock on the desk read 4:15 AM. The storm had begun to subside, leaving a heavy, oppressive silence over the Russo mansion.
I knew the risks of staying. If Rosa or the guards discovered me here, explanations wouldn't matter. But looking at Dante, who was now running a feverish temperature, I knew that if I left him unattended, infection or internal bleeding would finish the job before morning.
Working quietly, I cleaned up the bloody towels, disposed of the biohazard waste in a sealed incinerator chute hidden behind the study's bookcase, and set up an intravenous saline drip I found in the trauma kit to stabilize his blood pressure. I draped a heavy woolen blanket over his shivering shoulders and collapsed into an armchair across from him, keeping watch through the remaining hours of the night.
At 6:30 AM, the first rays of gray dawn pierced the horizon. Downstairs, I heard the faint, heavy thud of boots—the morning shift of guards rotating stations.
Dante stirred, his dark eyes snapping open with immediate, tactical clarity. The vulnerability of the night before vanished instantly, replaced by the razor-sharp predator who ruled the city. He checked his bandages with a gloved hand, tested his core strength, and looked across the room at me, curled awkwardly in the oversized leather chair.
"You're still here," he noted, his voice deeper, raspy from thirst.
"Someone had to make sure you didn't pull your stitches out in your sleep," I replied, standing up and handing him a glass of water from the desk pitcher.
He drank slowly, his gaze never leaving me. "Rosa usually arrives at seven to inspect the upper landing. If she finds you here, she won't just fire you, Sadie. She’ll assume you're an assassin."
"Then I suppose it's a good thing I know how to use the service stairwell behind the library," I said, smoothing down my blood-stained apron and picking up my cleaning supplies.
Dante caught my wrist before I could turn away. His touch was warm, deliberate. "Why didn't you run? You could have stolen whatever was on the desk, or left me to bleed out and walked away free. No one would have known."
"Because I'm a nurse," I answered quietly, looking straight into his impenetrable eyes. "And because dead men don't pay off gambling debts."
A slow, dangerous smile touched the corner of his mouth—the first genuine expression I had ever seen on his face. "Go down to the kitchen, change your uniform, and act invisible. If anyone asks why you look tired, you were scrubbing the second-floor ballroom floors all night. I'll handle Rosa."
"And the blood on the carpet?"
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"I'll burn the rug," he said casually, as if disposing of expensive Persian rugs were as simple as throwing away trash. "Go, Sadie."
I slipped out of the room just as the grandfather clock downstairs struck seven. True to his word, when I returned to my duties on the lower floors, Rosa was uncharacteristically silent, casting me only a sharp, suspicious glance before turning her attention elsewhere. Dante Russo had clearly issued a command.
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