The temporary medical room was a pocket of sterile silence in a universe of chaos. A paramedic, a woman with kind eyes and efficient hands, had just finished securing a heavy-duty splint around my right arm, from my fingers to my elbow. The sharp, grinding agony had subsided into a deep, throbbing ache, a constant, brutal reminder of Marcus’s betrayal. Each pulse of pain was his name.
Arthur Vance’s personal security guard stood by the door, a silent monolith. He hadn’t spoken a word since the paramedic arrived, but his presence was a shield, a promise. For the first time all day, I wasn’t prey.
I sat on the edge of the examination table, my left hand clutching my thigh, the fabric of my trousers damp with sweat. Hope was a fragile, terrifying thing. I had entrusted it to a stranger, a g
