Chapter 5: Directives

*POV: Aliyah*

“Aliyah,” Rosie said.

It wasn’t a question. It was a pull.

She stepped into the room. Didn’t look at Dominic. Didn’t look at the cream box on the bed. Looked at me. Her eyes were wrong. Not angry. Not scared. Resigned. Like she’d seen this scene before and knew how it ended.

“We’re leaving,” she said. “Now.”

I stood up. The chair scraped. Too loud.

Dominic didn’t move. Didn’t speak. He watched Rosie like she was a door he’d expected to open.

“Rosie,” he said.

“Don’t,” she said. “You don’t get to say my name.”

“Two years,” he said. “That’s a long time to hold a grudge.”

“It’s not a grudge. It’s a boundary.” She finally looked at him. “And you just crossed it by dragging her into it.”

“I didn’t drag her,” he said. “She walked in. On her own.”

“After you paid her tuition. After you summoned her here.” Rosie held up the paper. Hospital letterhead. I couldn’t see what it said. “After you put her on a list.”

“What list?” I said.

Neither of them answered me.

Dominic looked at the paper in her hand. “You shouldn’t have taken that.”

“I’m a nurse,” Rosie said. “It was in his chart. Flagged. Directive 9.2.”

My stomach dropped. “Directive 9.2?”

Dominic closed his eyes. Just for a second. When he opened them, he looked at me. Not at Rosie. At me. “Directive 9.1 is life debt. Cleared. You know that.”

“9.2 is asset acquisition,” Rosie said. “It means you’re his now. Not because you owe him. Because he claimed you.”

“I didn’t claim her,” Dominic said.

“You paid $259,843,” Rosie said. “You sent Antonio to watch the door. You gave her a scarf. You asked her to dinner. That’s the checklist. I’ve seen it before.”

“On who?” I asked.

Rosie didn’t answer. Dominic did. “On no one that matters.”

“Bullshit,” Rosie said. “Mom.”

The room went cold.

Dominic’s face didn’t change. But his hands did. They went flat on the blanket. Controlled. Like he was holding something down.

“You don’t talk about her,” he said. Quiet.

“I will,” Rosie said. “Because Aliyah needs to know. Mom was Directive 9.2. Uncle Leo claimed her after she saved his life. Car accident. 2003. She pulled him out. He paid her medical school debt. Gave her a house. Asked her to dinner. Told her no strings.”

“And?” I said.

“And two years later she was dead,” Rosie said. “Car accident. Except the brakes were cut. Except Uncle Leo got her life insurance. Except Directive 9.2 has a subclause. Acquisition means ownership. Ownership means disposal.”

“Rosie,” Dominic said. It was a warning.

“No,” she said. “She stays, she hears it. You want her? You tell her what happens to the women you claim.”

“I never claimed Mom,” he said. “Leo did.”

“You’re Leo’s heir,” Rosie said. “You inherited the ledger. You inherited the rules. You inherited the directives.”

“I burn the directives,” he said.

“Then why is 9.2 in your chart?” Rosie threw the paper on the bed. It landed next to the cream box. “Why did you activate it for her?”

Dominic didn’t look at the paper. He looked at me. “I didn’t.”

“Someone did,” Rosie said. “Because it’s flagged. As of 8:47 AM today. Same time her tuition cleared.”

8:47 AM. The wire transfer. _Services rendered._

I picked up the paper.

ST. MICHAEL’S HOSPITAL

PATIENT: BLACKWOOD, DOMINIC

ROOM: 901

SECURITY DIRECTIVE: 9.2

FLAG: ASSET ACQUISITION – RHODES, ALIYAH

STATUS: ACTIVE

NOTE: Protect at all costs. Terminate threats. Report movements.

My hands started shaking again.

“Protect at all costs,” I read out loud. “Terminate threats.”

“It’s hospital security,” Dominic said. “Standard for my family. We get threats. We get protection.”

“Report movements,” I said. “That’s not protection. That’s surveillance.”

“It’s the same thing,” he said.

“No,” Rosie said. “It’s not. And you know it’s not. Because Mom had the same flag. And when she tried to leave Leo, the ‘threats’ that got terminated were her friends. Her boyfriend. Anyone who helped her.”

“I’m not Leo,” Dominic said.

“You’re worse,” Rosie said. “Because you think you’re different. And that makes you sloppy.”

She grabbed my wrist. “We’re going.”

I let her pull me. One step. Two.

“Aliyah,” Dominic said.

I stopped. Didn’t turn.

“Friday,” he said. “Dinner. You still pick the place. You still ask your questions. I’ll still answer them. Nothing changes.”

“Everything changes,” Rosie said. “Because now she knows about 9.2.”

“I didn’t activate it,” Dominic said.

“Then who did?” Rosie asked.

The room was quiet. Antonio was still outside. The door was still open.

“My uncle,” Dominic said finally. “He has access. He flags everyone I touch. He did it with you. He did it with Mom. He’ll do it with her.”

“Then rescind it,” Rosie said.

“I can’t. Not until I’m discharged. Not until I take the chair. Until then, he controls the ledger.”

“When is that?” I asked.

“Three days,” Dominic said. “Friday.”

The same day as dinner.

Rosie’s grip on my wrist tightened. “We’re not waiting three days. We’re going now. And you’re not seeing him Friday. Or ever.”

“I don’t take orders from you,” I said. Pulled my wrist back.

“Then take this one,” she said. “If you stay on that list, you die. Like Mom. Like Sarah Chen. Like Maria Vetti.”

“Who are they?” I asked.

“Women who got flagged under 9.2,” Rosie said. “Women who are dead.”

“Stop,” Dominic said. He pushed the blanket off. Swung his legs over the side of the bed. Stood up. Too fast. He swayed. Caught himself on the bedrail. His face went white. The bandage had a spot of red on it. Fresh. “You’re scaring her.”

“I’m saving her,” Rosie said. “Like you should have saved Mom.”

“I was powerless,” he said. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Not become him,” Rosie said. “But you did. You look just like him. You sound just like him. And now you’re doing exactly what he did.”

Dominic looked at me. Ignored the blood on his shirt. Ignored Rosie. “Aliyah. Look at me.”

I did.

“I didn’t activate 9.2. I didn’t want you flagged. I didn’t want you in the ledger. I paid your tuition because you bled for me. I asked you to dinner because I want to talk to you. That’s it. Everything else is my uncle. And I will burn it. All of it. For you. But you have to trust me for three days.”

“Three days,” I said. “Until Friday.”

“Yes.”

“Until you take the chair.”

“Yes.”

“What chair?”

He didn’t answer. Rosie did.

“The head of the family,” she said. “When he takes the chair, he becomes Leo. Officially. Legally. Totally. And then Directive 9.2 won’t be his uncle’s. It’ll be his.”

My phone buzzed. In my pocket. I pulled it out.

Unknown number. Not D. Not Justin.

_Directive 9.2 confirmed. Asset: Aliyah Rhodes. Threat assessment commencing. Remove yourself from proximity to primary or be classified as collateral. —L_

L. Leo. The uncle.

Rosie saw my face. “What?”

I turned the phone so she could see.

She read it. Her face went gray. She looked at Dominic.

“You see?” she said. “It’s already starting.”

Dominic took the phone from my hand. Read it. His jaw did something violent.

He looked at Antonio through the open door. “Get me a phone. Now. And get me Leo.”

Antonio nodded. Disappeared.

Dominic looked at me. “You’re not collateral. You’re not an asset. You’re Aliyah. And nobody touches you.”

My phone buzzed again. In his hand.

He looked down. His blood left the room. All of it.

“What?” I said.

He turned the screen to me.

_Threat identified: Rosie Blackwood. Terminate. —L_

Rosie was standing next to me.

The door was still open.

And footsteps were coming down the hall.