Chapter 3 - The Secret in the Walls
The harsh silence of the exam room returned, heavier and more dangerous than before.
Julian stared into the dark cavity beneath the sink, his jaw set like granite. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out with his large, scarred hand, slid his fingers into the recess, and pulled the small object free.
The bloodstained silk ribbon fluttered slightly in the draft. It was an unmistakable piece of expensive designer fabric—heavy, deep crimson silk embroidered with a distinct golden family crest that Camille couldn't place, but that made the color drain entirely from Julian’s face.
“Julian?” Camille asked, her voice dropping to a cautious whisper. “What is that?”
Julian didn't answer immediately. He turned the small flash drive over in his palm, his dark eyes narrowing as the heavy reality of what he was holding settled over him. This clinic was supposed to be a neutral zone. It was a modest, independent vet practice on the edge of Queens, miles away from the high-stakes syndicate territories of Manhattan and Brooklyn. Nothing here should have touched his world.
Nothing, that is, except for the cat.
“Dante!” Julian’s voice boomed toward the heavy wooden door, sharp enough to shatter glass.
The door flew open instantly. Dante Russo stepped inside, his hand already resting near his shoulder holster, his eyes darting defensively around the room. “Boss? What happened? Did she attack?”
Dante stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Julian kneeling on the floor holding a bloody scrap of silk and a flash drive, with Dr. Hart standing tensely beside him.
Dante’s eyes widened. “Where did you find that?”
“Under the sink,” Julian said, his voice deadly calm, though a muscle ticked furiously in his cheek. “Violet found it.”
Dante let out a low curse, running a hand over his short-cropped hair. “That’s impossible. We swept this entire clinic before you brought her in. I had three men check every square inch of the building.”
“Your men missed something,” Julian said coldly, standing up to his full height. He slipped the flash drive into the inner pocket of his charcoal suit jacket, tucking the silk scrap safely beside it. He looked down at Violet, who was sitting regally beside his boots, letting out a soft, satisfied chirp as if she had just successfully completed a dangerous mission.
Camille crossed her arms, her professional boundaries firmly re-established. Her clinic had just been turned into a crime scene, and two armed syndicate enforcers were standing in her exam room.
“Mr. Moretti—Julian,” Camille corrected herself sharply, her voice ringing with authority. “Before you start treating my clinic like your personal mafia warehouse, you are going to explain to me what is happening in my building.”
Julian turned his dark, intense gaze back onto her. There was no warmth left in his eyes now—only the razor-sharp calculation of a criminal kingpin facing an unprecedented threat.
“Dr. Hart,” Julian said smoothly, stepping closer to her than professional courtesy allowed. “What you just saw doesn't concern you. For your own safety, I suggest you forget you ever saw a flash drive or a piece of silk.”
“My safety?” Camille’s eyes flashed with fierce, unapologetic anger. She didn't back down an inch, standing her ground right in front of him despite the intimidating height difference. “This is my clinic. You just ripped the plumbing out of my supply cabinets, and you think you can tell me to forget it? If there is contraband hidden in my exam rooms, I have a legal obligation to call the police!”
“The police won’t help you here, Camille,” Julian said, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous warning. “In fact, calling them right now would put you in more danger than you can possibly imagine.”
“Try me.”
Julian stared at her for a long, silent moment. He saw no fear in her eyes—only stubborn, incandescent defiance. Most people wept, begged, or ran away when they realized they had stumbled into a Moretti family dispute. Dr. Camille Hart stood there like an angry general ready to wage war.
A strange mix of respect and deep concern flared in Julian’s chest.
“Dante,” Julian commanded without breaking eye contact with Camille. “Lock down the perimeter. Check the rear exit alleys. Find out who rented the storage unit across the street yesterday.”
“On it, Boss,” Dante muttered, spinning on his heel and bolting out the door.
Julian turned back to Camille. “I am not your enemy, Dr. Hart. But the people who put that drive under your sink are hunting for someone. And apparently, they used your clinic as a drop point because they knew Violet would come here.”
Camille’s breath hitched. “Violet? What does a cat have to do with a flash drive?”
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Julian knelt down, scooped the massive Maine Coon effortlessly into his arms—earning a soft, happy purr instead of a scratch—and looked up at Camille with grim seriousness.
“Because Violet doesn't belong to me, Camille. She belonged to my sister, Elena—the woman the entire underworld has been searching for for the last six months. And whoever took Elena left that drive here as a message.”
