Chapter Three The Sanctuary

I made my decision at midnight.

My mind replayed every scenario. The failed escape, Vito, the snipers, Frank’s words. There was no running.

Found Frank still in his office. Massive desk, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the compound. Didn't get a proper look the previous time. 

He looked up from his laptop. "Jane. I wasn't expecting you until morning.”

"I made my decision.”

"And?"

"Three months. I work for you, treat your people, keep quiet. After which you give me enough money to disappear and never contact me again."

He stood and walked round the desk, stopped close enough that I could smell his cologne, something expensive that reminded me of whiskey and cedar, with an undertone of gunpowder.

"Deal."

He extended his hand, deliberate and steady.

I stared at it, at the tattoos covering his forearm, a family crest, words in Latin I couldn't read. Probably something about honor, or blood or loyalty unto death.

This was a mistake. I knew it was a mistake, but I'd made worse mistakes before and I was still alive despite them.

I shook his hand. His grip was strong, warm, calloused. Not a businessman's hands, working hands. Hands that had done more than sign contracts.

He held on a second too long. His thumb brushed the inside of my wrist, right over my pulse.

"Welcome to the family, Jane."

"I'm an employee."

"In my world, they're the same thing." He released my hand slowly. "You start tomorrow. 8 AM. Dr. Rosabella will show you around."

"Fine."

I turned to leave.

"Dr. Evan."

I froze at my last name on his lips.

"Who are you running from?"

I didn't turn around. "None of your business."

I left before he could ask more questions.

But I felt his eyes on me all the way down the hall.

I didn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the file with my real name on it. By morning, I was exhausted and wired in equal measure.

I found Dr. Rosabella in the supply room, reorganizing medications.

"Can I ask you something?" 

She didn't turn around. "Depends on the question."

"Why do you work for him?"

"Frank?"

"Yes. You're a neurosurgeon. You could work anywhere. Why here?"

She set down the bandages, turned to face me. 

"Three years ago, my brother got into debt with the Russo family. Gambling. They sent him home missing two fingers and promised the rest of him would come back in pieces.”

"Frank paid the debt. Saved my brother's life in exchange, I work for him when he calls. No questions, no complaints."

"That's it. In Frank's world, you save his people, he saves yours. Simple math. Brutal calculus. You're loyal, he protects you.” 

"He's a criminal."

"He's a businessman. The business just happens to be illegal." Her head turned, sharp and quick, like she'd heard something I hadn't. "You're thinking of running again."

"I don't know what I'm thinking."

"Come let me show you something."

She led me down a corridor I hadn't seen. We stopped at a red door. Above it, Cyrillic script I couldn't read.

"What does that say?"

"Violence forbidden. It's a Sanctuary." She pushed it open. Another surgical suite, but the floors were painted deep red. "Anyone can get treatment here including enemies.

Frank's rule: medicine first, always."

"You run free clinics for criminals?"

"We run insurance fraud to pay for it. Ghost patients, fake billing. The system's broken. We profit and we heal, both things are true."

"That's still illegal."

"So is faking your death." Her mouth twitched. Almost a smile, but not quite.

"Whatever you're running from, Frank can make it disappear. Three months, Jane. That's all he's asking.”

"In exchange for what? My soul?"

"In exchange for three months of your time. The soul part is optional."

***

That night, I stood at the window of my pretty cage. Outside nothing and the distant glow of security lights. Thinking about the Sanctuary and the way Frank's hand had felt against my skin.

My phone buzzed. Unknown number.

Against every instinct screaming don't, I answered.

"Hello?"

Breathing. Then: "I know you're alive, Jane."

I froze for a moment, caught by the familiar tone. 

My lungs stopped working. A shiver ran through me; I felt the chill under my clothes. Two years since I'd heard it, but my body remembered.

"How did you get this number?"

"Does it matter?" A pause, then a softer more intimate tone: "I'm watching you right now, Jane. Wave hello."

The line went dead.

I dropped the phone and stared at the window. There. At the edge of the property, a figure in the shadows, too far to see clearly.

But I knew it was him.

With shaking hands, I dialed the only number I had.

Frank answered on the first ring. "Jane?"

"Someone's outside. Watching my window."

"Don't move."

Sixty seconds later, he burst through my door with two armed guards.

"Where?"

I pointed. "By the trees. He was…" The figure was gone.

"There's no one there," the guard said.

"There was. I saw him. He called me, said." I stopped.

Frank's eyes narrowed. "Who called you, Jane? Who's after you?"

The words came out broken: "Dr. Magnus Vance.”