IN HER VEINS

CHAPTER 1

The sharp gasp sliced through the lively hum of the Mall’s food court like a knife. Sylvester “Sly” Jones halted mid-step, his entire body seizing with instinctive alertness. The noise wasn’t just startling; it carried a chilling undercurrent of desperation.

He turned his head sharply toward the commotion. A crowd was forming near the center of the court, their voices rising into an erratic murmur of confusion and alarm.

“Xavier,” Sly barked, his tone cold and commanding.

Before the word fully left his mouth, Xavier, his towering bodyguard, was already moving. His broad shoulders cut through the crowd like a tank, clearing a path as people stumbled back, startled by the sheer force of his presence.

Sly followed close behind, his jaw clenched. A strange tension gripped his chest, a mixture of dread and something darker—something he didn’t want to name. He pushed through the last line of spectators and froze.

A young woman lay sprawled on the floor, clutching her throat. Her pale face twisted in agony as her body writhed violently. Her lips moved soundlessly, her eyes wide with terror. She was suffocating.

“Back up!” Sly’s voice boomed, silencing the crowd.

He dropped to his knees beside her, his hands moving with precision. The Heimlich maneuver was his first instinct. His arms locked around her midsection, and he delivered a sharp thrust upward. Nothing. Again. Still nothing. Her gasps turned weaker, her body trembling.

“Come on,” he muttered, his breath hot and tight.

Her chest heaved, her skin now a sickly blue. Sly’s mind raced. He knew what had to be done. Years of medical training—long buried beneath layers of corporate power suits—surged to the surface with unrelenting clarity.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the sleek, silver penknife he always carried. He hesitated for the briefest moment, his eyes locking onto hers. Fear. Pain. A silent plea.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

The blade glinted in the fluorescent light as he made the incision just above her throat. Blood welled up instantly, slick and warm against his steady fingers. Gasps rippled through the crowd, a mixture of horror and awe.

“Hold her still,” he ordered, his voice sharp as steel.

Xavier positioned himself at her shoulders, holding her down as Sly worked quickly. His fingers probed the small opening, searching, desperate. Time was slipping through his hands like sand.

There. A foreign object. Slick and stubborn.

With a swift pull, Sly extracted the blockage—a jagged shard of plastic coated in blood and saliva. Her body convulsed once, then stilled as air rushed back into her lungs with a loud, wet gasp.

She was breathing.

The crowd erupted in a cacophony of cheers and gasps of relief, but Sly barely noticed. His gaze remained fixed on the woman’s face as color slowly returned to her cheeks. Her eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused, but alive.

“Th-thank you,” she rasped, her voice barely audible.

Sly exhaled sharply, the tension in his shoulders easing for the first time in minutes. He leaned back, letting her body rest on the cold linoleum floor.

“You’re safe now,” he said softly, though the tightness in his chest remained.

Her trembling hand reached for his, and he caught it instinctively. Her grip was weak, but the gesture carried a weight that unsettled him.

“You saved me,” she whispered, tears pooling in her wide, dark eyes.

She managed to throw her arms around him and with some strength he didn’t know how she mustered, pulled him into a tight embrace. With her mouth to his ear, she said, in almost muffled tone, “please don’t let them take me away.”

At first, he didn’t hear her right, but he quickly detached from the embrace so she could rest her back, as leaning forward will cause more of the blood to flow.

Before he could respond, the blare of sirens cut through the air. Red and white lights danced across the walls as paramedics stormed the scene, moving with practiced efficiency. Sly stepped back, giving them room to work.

Her gaze never left him, even as they loaded her onto a stretcher. She lifted a shaking hand toward him, her lips moving soundlessly. He stepped closer, bending down to catch her faint words.

“Don’t let them…” Her voice cracked, her energy fading fast. “Don’t let them take me.”

His brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Her fingers clutched his bloodstained shirt weakly. “They’ll find me. You have to—”

“Who are you talking about,” he muttered as quickly as her plea got out of her mouth

His words were cut off as the paramedics ushered her into the waiting ambulance. The doors slammed shut, leaving Sly standing in the fading glow of the sirens, her cryptic plea echoing in his mind.

As the crowd began to disperse, Xavier approached, holding out Sly’s discarded jacket. “You alright, boss?”

Sly nodded absentmindedly, his gaze fixed on the ambulance speeding away. “She said something,” he muttered, his voice low. “Something about someone finding her.”

Xavier frowned. “She was probably disoriented. Don’t overthink it.”

But Sly couldn’t shake the unease curling in his gut. There had been clarity in her eyes, a sharp urgency that belied her fragile state.

“I don’t think she was.” He responded. “Her words were clear, even though muffled. It sounded like a plea to save her life”

As the last of the crowd trickled away, Sly’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, frowning at the unfamiliar number on the screen.

“Jones,” he answered curtly.

A deep, gravelly voice replied, sending a chill down his spine. “You’ve meddled in something you shouldn’t have, Mr. Jones.”

Sly’s blood ran cold. “Who is this?”

The line went dead.

For a moment, he stood frozen, the weight of the cryptic words settling over him like a dark cloud. The woman’s pale face flashed in his mind, her desperate plea ringing in his ears.

Who was she? And what had he just gotten himself into?