Chapter 5 - The Lie Disravels
Before Elena could answer, the sharp wail of police sirens echoed from three blocks away, approaching fast.
"Boss," the chief lieutenant urged, pulling at Dante’s coat. "The cops are coming. We have to move now. If the feds catch you here with a shooting..."
Dante stood up slowly, never taking his eyes off Elena. "Lift Brutus carefully. Put him in the back of the SUV."
Two guards wrapped a heavy blanket under the mastiff, gently lifting the massive dog and rushing him out the shattered front entrance into the waiting black vehicle.
Dante turned back to Elena, who was quietly wiping her surgical tools with alcohol and rolling them back into her leather pouch.
"Sully," Dante said, pulling a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills from his suit pocket and throwing it onto the mahogany bar. "This covers the window and the liquor. Keep the bar closed tomorrow."
"Understood, Mr. Marchetti," Sully nodded.
Dante walked up to Elena, stopping just inches away from her. The scent of rain, expensive cologne, and gunpowder clung to him.
"You're coming with me," Dante said.
Elena zipped her leather pouch shut and stood up, meeting his gaze coldly. "I don't think so, Mr. Marchetti. I saved your dog. We’re square. I'm going home."
"You just performed field trauma surgery with unregistered military-grade equipment in front of five witnesses," Dante said softly, leaning in close so only she could hear. "In two hours, the Chicago police will be searching this bar. They’ll run your name. They’ll ask where a二十-something waitress learned how to clamp an intercostal artery in the dark."
Elena’s pulse spiked, but her face remained a stone mask.
"I know a ghost when I see one," Dante continued, his eyes searching her face. "You’re running from something worse than me. If you stay here, they find you. If you come with me, you’re protected."
Elena looked at Sully, who gave her a quiet, subtle nod. Then she looked at Lena, who was still shaking behind the bar.
She knew Dante was right. The moment she unrolled that kit, her quiet life on Halsted Street was over. The paper-thin wall she had built around herself had collapsed.
"If I come with you," Elena whispered, "I leave when the dog is fully healed. No questions about my past."
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Dante smiled—a slow, dangerous curve of his lips that held no warmth, only absolute satisfaction.
"Agreed," Dante said. "Welcome to the family, Doctor."
