Chapter 4 - The Hunt Begins
The air in the exam room seemed to drop ten degrees.
Camille stared at Julian, the anger draining from her face, replaced by sudden, profound shock. “Your sister? But you said—when you brought her in, you said she was your cat.”
“I had to protect her,” Julian said quietly, cradling the giant Maine Coon against his broad chest with a surprising gentleness that completely contradicted his dangerous reputation. Violet rested her chin comfortably on his expensive silk tie, her purr vibrating softly through the room. “Six months ago, Elena disappeared from our family estate in upstate New York. No note, no warning, nothing. The only thing left behind in her private quarters was Violet, sitting by an open window.”
“And you think someone kidnapped her?” Camille asked, her professional detachment completely shattered by the human tragedy beneath the mafia mystique.
“I know they did,” Julian’s jaw tightened, his knuckles whitening around the cat’s carrier handle. “Elena was supposed to marry the heir of the Rossi syndicate to cement a peace treaty between our families. She refused. She ran away to escape the life. But in our world, you don't just walk away from an arranged syndicate marriage. Someone took her to force our hand—or worse.”
Camille looked at Violet, then back at Julian. The frantic, terrified behavior of the cat over the last three days suddenly made complete sense. It wasn't just a veterinary issue; it was trauma. The cat had been somewhere dangerous, had smelled something terrifying, and had somehow ended up back in the hands of the only person she trusted.
“And that flash drive?” Camille asked softly.
“Is either a ransom note, proof of life, or a trap,” Julian said grimly. He carefully set Violet back down inside her carrier, closing the mesh door securely. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the small, waterproof drive, turning it over in his hand. “My tech specialists back at headquarters will need to crack the encryption. But to do that safely, without triggering a tracking virus that could wipe our servers, I need a secure, neutral location.”
He looked up, locking his dark eyes directly onto Camille.
“Which is why we’re staying right here.”
Camille’s eyes widened. “Here? In my clinic? Julian, absolutely not! You just said you’re being hunted by rival syndicates!”
“Which makes your clinic the last place anyone would look for us,” Julian countered smoothly, closing the distance between them with dangerous, hypnotic confidence. “Every safe house I own in the city is already compromised if they knew to plant that drive here. Your clinic is quiet, isolated, and outside our immediate grid.”
“I have patients tomorrow morning! I have appointments for vaccinations and spays!”
“Cancel them. Tell them there’s a plumbing emergency.” Julian reached out, gently catching her hand in his. His palm was warm, rough, and steady, sending an electric jolt straight up her arm that made her forget how to breathe for a split second. “Camille, I swear to you on my life, my family, and this cat—no harm will come to you or your staff. But I need your help.”
Before Camille could formulate a rational argument against harboring a powerful mafia boss and a decryption operation in her back office, the clinic’s front doorbell chimed.
Ding-dong.
The sound echoed sharply through the quiet, empty lobby.
Dante burst back into the exam room, his expression terrifyingly pale. “Boss. We’ve got incoming. Two unmarked black sedans just pulled up front. Four men in tactical gear are getting out. They’re not local cops, and they’re not Rossi guards. They’re professionals.”
Julian’s eyes locked onto Camille’s. The mask of polite diplomacy vanished entirely, replaced by the lethal, calculating coldness of an apex predator cornered in enemy territory.
“They tracked the drive’s signature,” Julian whispered harshly. He pulled a sleek, heavy Beretta pistol from a concealed holster beneath his suit jacket with blinding speed, checking the magazine before clicking the safety off.
Camille’s heart hammered frantically against her ribs. Fear—cold and sharp—finally flooded her veins. “Julian... what do we do?”
Julian didn't hesitate. He stepped in front of her, placing his massive body directly between her and the exam room door, his weapon raised and steady.
“Dante, secure the rear exit!” Julian barked. “Camille, stay behind me and do not make a sound.”
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The heavy glass front door of the clinic shattered with an explosive, deafening crash.
Heavy, tactical boots hit the lobby floor, marching straight toward the back hallway.
