Chapter 4 - THE SURGEON’S DEBT
The trail led us to a private clinic on the outskirts of the city. We didn't go in with guns blazing; Gabriel wanted answers, and he wanted them from the man who had tried to stitch his life away.
We found Dr. Cole in his office, his desk covered in the same industrial polymers I had identified on the stitches.
When he saw Gabriel standing in his doorway—alive, breathing, and looking quite lethal—the doctor collapsed into his chair.
“The thread,” Gabriel said, not needing to ask. “Who paid you?”
Cole started to blubber, his composure shattered. “They… they threatened my family! The Syndicate, they have eyes everywhere! They gave me the kit, they told me it was just a slow-acting anticoagulant. They didn't tell me it would cause necrosis!”
“You lied to me,” Gabriel said, stepping closer. “You swore an oath.”
“I chose my life over yours!” Cole screamed.
Gabriel leaned over the desk. “Bad choice.”
He didn't kill him. He did something worse. He handed me a phone and gestured toward the door. “Call the police, Elena. Tell them everything about this clinic. Tell them about the illegal medical trials, the kickbacks, and the murder attempt. By the time they’re done with him, he’ll wish he’d been killed.”
I made the call, my voice steady. As the sirens began to wail, I looked at Gabriel. He looked tired—not physically, but soul-deep.
“It’s over,” I said.
“For now,” he agreed. “But the Syndicate won't stop. They’ve lost their inside man and their surgeon. They’ll be coming for me directly.”
We walked out of the clinic into the rainy New York night. The tension between us, once fueled by danger and suspicion, had shifted. He looked at me, and for the first time, I didn't see a mob boss. I saw a man who had been isolated by power, finding companionship in the most unlikely person: the girl who cleaned his floors.
“Elena,” he said, stopping me under a streetlamp. “You’ve risked everything for me. You saved me twice—once with the scissors, once with your eyes.”
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“I just wanted to be safe,” I said.
“You’ll never have to worry about safety again,” he promised, his eyes locking onto mine. “But I can't let you go back to being a maid. I need someone who sees the seams. I need a partner.”
