Chapter 5

Broken Ties

Lena’s POV

The bell above the coffee shop door jangled softly as I walked inside, my gaze sweeping past the small round tables until I spotted Claire sitting in the back corner.

She looked pale and drawn, her knuckles bone-white as she clutched a paper cup with both hands. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath her eyes and every few seconds, her gaze flicked nervously toward the glass window facing the busy street.

“Claire,” I said, stepping up to her table.

She flinched slightly before looking up, letting out a ragged breath. “Lena. You actually came.”

I pulled out a chair and sat down across from her, my hands resting flat on the wooden table. “Of course I came. You called me last night crying and sounding like someone was chasing you. What’s going on?”

Claire avoided my eyes, taking a tiny sip of her drink. “I was just… stressed out. I had a fight with my boyfriend and things got a little out of hand. I shouldn’t have panicked you like that.”

“A fight with your boyfriend?” I scoffed, feeling a familiar wave of frustration stir in my chest. “Claire, we haven’t spoken in three years. You don’t call me out of nowhere at two in the morning because of a minor argument. Who were those men shouting in the background?”

“It was nothing, okay?” she snapped, her voice rising before she quickly checked herself and lowered it to a fierce whisper. “I don’t need a lecture, Lena. I just wanted to see your face and make sure you were doing alright.”

“I’m fine,” I said slowly, watching the way her eyes darted toward a man walking past the window outside. “But you aren’t. If you’re in trouble, tell me. I can help.”

Claire laughed, a bitter, empty sound that lacked any real humor. “You can’t help me, Lena. You live in your safe, perfect little hospital world. Just… forget I called, alright?”

She stood up abruptly, pulling her trench coat tight around her body without finishing her coffee.

“Claire, wait!” I reached out, catching her wrist.

She pulled away with surprising force, her dark eyes wide with an emotion that looked terrifyingly like panic. “Don’t follow me, Lena. Please.”

She turned and rushed out the front door, leaving me sitting alone at the table with a cold pit forming in my stomach.

By the time my evening shift at the hospital ended, the sun had already dipped below the horizon, painting the Chicago sky in streaks of deep purple and navy. I walked through the main glass doors of the lobby, expecting to see the three black SUVs waiting at the curb.

Instead, a single dark vehicle sat by the curb and leaning against the front fender was Adrian.

He wasn’t wearing his suit jacket tonight, just a dark sweater that fitted closely over his broad shoulders. The sharp wind blowing off Lake Michigan ruffled his short dark hair, but he didn’t seem to notice the cold at all.

“You came,” I said, stopping a few feet away from him.

“I told you I would,” he replied, his gray eyes softening as he looked at my tired face. “Walk with me for a few minutes. You look like you need air.”

I should have said no. I should have gotten into my own car and driven straight home to lock my doors. But looking at the quiet certainty in his posture, I found myself nodding.

We walked side by side toward the lakefront path, the city traffic humming behind us while the cold waves lapped rhythmically against the concrete shore. The quiet between us wasn’t uncomfortable; it was heavy with things neither of us knew how to say out loud.

“How long have you been doing this?” I asked softly, pulling my scarf higher up my neck. “Ruling the south side?”

“Fifteen years,” Adrian answered, staring out at the dark expanse of water stretching into the horizon. “My father was killed when I was nineteen. I didn’t have the luxury of choosing a normal life. I had to become someone people feared, or my family would have been wiped out before the week ended.”

“That sounds like a lonely way to live,” I murmured, my heart aching slightly at the flat, emotionless way he spoke of his own youth.

“It is,” he admitted quietly, stopping near the edge of the path to face me. “Power keeps you alive, but it strips away everything else. What about you, Lena? Why pediatrics?”

I offered a small, bittersweet smile, looking down at my boots. “My mother worked double shifts her whole life just to keep food on the table. When she got sick during my second year of nursing school, there was no one to help us. I watched her suffer alone. I chose pediatrics because kids shouldn’t have to face pain without someone fighting for them.”

Adrian reached out, his hand hesitating for a fraction of a second before his long fingers gently tucked a stray lock of brown hair behind my ear. His touch was surprisingly warm against my cold skin, sending a subtle shudder down my spine.

“You have a soft heart, Lena Harper,” he whispered, his gray eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch in my throat. “It makes you vulnerable in a city like this.”

“It makes me human,” I corrected, stepping half an inch closer to him without meaning to.

He didn’t move away. Instead, he leaned down slightly, his gaze dropping to my lips. My heart began to hammer wildly against my ribs, a sudden electric current snapping into existence between us. I could feel the heat radiating off his chest, the faint scent of rain and dark wood clinging to his skin.

He cupped the side of my face, his thumb tracing the sharp line of my cheekbone. His breath hit my lips, warm and shallow and for a fleeting second, the entire world narrowed down to his touch. I closed my eyes, waiting for his lips to meet mine, my fingers clutching tightly onto the front of his wool coat.

Then, Adrian stiffened, his fingers gently sliding off my jaw as he drew back a small inch.

“I should take you home,” he said, his voice husky and rough with a restraint that cost him dearly. “Before I forget why I need to keep you safe.”

Neither of us spoke on the short drive back to my apartment building. My cheeks were still flushed, my chest rising and falling in quick, uneven breaths as I stepped out of his car and walked up the steps to my front door.

I unlocked my apartment, kicked off my shoes and leaned my back against the wall, resting my head against the cool paint. My skin still felt warm where his hand had touched me and the rapid beat of my pulse refused to settle down.

A sharp buzz in my coat pocket broke the quiet.

I pulled out my phone, expecting a security check-in or a message from Maya.

Instead, a text message from Claire illuminated the screen.

'842 Industrial Way, Dock 4. Please come, Lena. I don’t know who else to call. Don’t tell anyone.'

I stared at the unfamiliar address on the screen, my blood instantly running cold as the quiet in the room turned suffocatingly…