Dark Devotion

Chapter 3

Elena

The next morning – Hospital Pediatrics Ward

The morning sun filtered through the narrow blinds of Room 207, casting pale golden streaks across the sterile walls. The soft beeping of machines provided a steady rhythm, grounding the silence. The little girl was still asleep, curled into herself like she was trying to disappear. Her teddy bear, now patched and cleaned by the nurses, was clutched tightly to her chest as if it were the only anchor she had left in the world.

I hadn’t slept.

Not really.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the alley again. The bruises on her skin. The desperation in her voice. Her small, shaking hand gripping mine like it was the only solid thing in her crumbling world.

“Don’t let him find me.”

That whisper had latched onto my conscience like a splinter I couldn’t remove. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t said another word since. The way she clung to me said enough. There was something raw, something broken in the way she refused to let anyone else touch her. As if she’d decided, without words, that I was her last safe place.

I rubbed my face with one hand, trying to scrub away the exhaustion. Yawned as quietly as I could. The pediatric nurse had offered to take over for a few hours, but the girl had shaken her head violently when anyone else entered the room. She only relaxed when it was me. She only ate if I fed her. Let anyone else near her, and her whole body tensed like a frightened animal.

It was unsettling. Sweet, in a sad way—but deeply, deeply unsettling.

Why me?

Why did she trust me?

And why did I feel like keeping her safe had suddenly become my responsibility? Like I’d stumbled into something much bigger than I understood, and I couldn’t just walk away now, even if I wanted to.

A soft knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts.

It was Giulia, her familiar silhouette backlit by the hallway’s fluorescent glow, holding a thermos like a lifeline. “You need this,” she whispered, stepping inside and offering it to me. “The real stuff. Not that cafeteria swill.”

“Bless you,” I murmured, accepting it like sacred wine. The coffee was scalding and dark and tasted like heaven.

Giulia’s gaze slid toward the child, then back to me. “No family’s shown up?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. No calls. No records. It’s like she appeared out of thin air.”

Giulia frowned, arms crossing. “That’s not good.”

“No,” I said quietly. “It’s not.”

She lingered for a moment longer. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

It was a lie. A clean, practiced one. But what else could I say? That I was unraveling? That I hadn’t stopped thinking about what might’ve happened to this girl if I hadn’t turned down that alley? That I was starting to feel afraid?

She didn’t push. Just gave my shoulder a squeeze and slipped back into the hallway.

I turned back toward the girl. She stirred slightly, murmuring something I couldn’t quite catch. Her brows furrowed in sleep. Her tiny hand flexed like she was reaching for something—or someone.

“Shh,” I whispered, brushing hair from her forehead. “You’re safe now.”

I didn’t know if that was true.

But I had to believe it.

---

Dante

Late Morning – Private Estate, Rome

The estate was quiet, save for the rhythmic ticking of the antique clock on the far wall and the occasional rustle of paper. Light streamed in through the tall windows, catching on the dust motes suspended in the still air.

I liked silence.

It made people uncomfortable. Made them fidget. Made them speak too much. Reveal too much.

I sat alone in the study, one leg crossed over the other, the photo of Elena Carter lying on the desk beside a file folder marked Sensitive – Level Red. The more I read, the more I understood why she’d become a problem—and a potential asset. She wasn’t just good at her job. She was relentless. Loyal to a fault. Brave when she should’ve been afraid.

That made her valuable.

And dangerous.

A soft knock sounded. I didn’t answer.

The door opened anyway. Luca stepped in, followed by Cassandra—my eyes and ears inside the hospital. Dressed in her usual sleek uniform, dark hair pulled back tight, she offered a clipped nod.

“She’s still with the girl,” Cassandra reported without preamble.

“Still no contact from anyone claiming the child?”

“None. And no name, still. The girl barely speaks.”

I leaned back in the leather chair, thoughtful. A silent child was a problem. A silent child with no name was worse.

“Elena hasn’t left?”

“She’s sleeping in a chair next to the bed. Protective. Not faking it.”

Of course she wasn’t.

Cassandra folded her arms. “If you want me to get her out of the picture, I can do it clean.”

“No.”

Her brow arched. “Why not?”

“Because if she leaves now, the girl might shut down completely. We need her cooperative. And Elena… she’s the only thing grounding her.”

Cassandra tilted her head, studying me. “You’re awfully concerned.”

I met her gaze evenly. “You don’t understand the stakes.”

“No,” she said slowly. “But I know you. And I’ve never seen you hesitate this long.”

I didn’t reply.

Because she wasn’t wrong.

---

Elena

Afternoon – Hospital Cafeteria

I sat at the far end of the staff cafeteria, the tray before me untouched except for a half-eaten sandwich I’d been pushing around my plate. My appetite had vanished hours ago, replaced by a gnawing restlessness I couldn’t shake.

Across the room, two doctors were deep in conversation about a recent surgery. A nurse yawned loudly into her coffee. Someone’s pager buzzed faintly near the vending machines.

Normal sounds.

But I felt anything but normal.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled aimlessly through old photos. Sunsets from the beach trip last year. Notes from nursing school. A picture of me and Giulia wearing Santa hats at the hospital’s Christmas party, arms wrapped around each other, cheeks pink from laughter.

Moments where the world made sense.

Now, everything felt off-balance.

Why had that man asked for the girl? Why didn’t he leave a name? And why—despite all the hospital’s security—did I feel like someone was still watching?

I looked toward the wide cafeteria windows, trying to ignore the tight knot forming in my chest.

Just for a moment.

But that’s when I saw him.

Across the street. Near the alley by the delivery entrance. A man in a black coat stood perfectly still. Too still. He wasn’t checking his phone or lighting a cigarette. He was just watching. Watching the building. Watching me.

The second our eyes met, he turned.

And walked away.

A chill ran down my spine.

Suddenly, the cafeteria felt too loud. Too open. My throat was dry, and I realized my hands were shaking.

I told myself it was nothing.

But deep down, I didn’t believe it.

---