Chapter Twenty-Two: Blood Does Not Ask Permission

Iris couldn’t breathe.

The photo burned into her vision. Her grandmother’s familiar front gate. The cracked paint. The flowering hibiscus she watered every morning. And standing just outside it, hands in his pockets, a stranger who had no right to be there.

“They promised,” Iris whispered. “They said they wouldn’t touch her.”

Nathaniel was already moving, pulling on his shirt, grabbing his phone. His jaw was locked so tight it ached.

“They don’t keep promises,” he said coldly. “They leverage them.”

“I have to go back,” Iris said, panic rising. “I can’t let her”

“No.” Nathaniel turned sharply, his voice cutting through her fear. “You’re not walking into a trap.”

“That’s my grandmother!”

“And you’re my responsibility,” he snapped back, then stopped himself, softening his tone. “You’re under my protection.”

She stared at him. “You don’t get to decide that.”

He stepped closer, his hands settling on her arms, grounding her shaking body. “I get to decide how far I’m willing to go. And I’m already past the point of turning back.”

His phone buzzed again.

This time, the name on the screen made Iris’s stomach twist.

Dr. Richard Hale.

His father.

Nathaniel answered without hesitation.

“Is this you?” he demanded.

A pause. Then a calm, measured voice. “Lower your tone.”

“You sent someone to her house,” Nathaniel said, rage barely contained. “To a civilian. To an elderly woman.”

“She’s family,” his father replied evenly. “That makes her relevant.”

Nathaniel laughed, sharp and bitter. “You don’t know the meaning of family.”

“Watch yourself,” Richard warned. “You’re not in a position to challenge us.”

“I’m not asking permission,” Nathaniel said. “I’m telling you to pull your dog off my property.”

Another pause.

“You’ve made things complicated,” Richard said. “Running off with her. Hiding. Provoking attention.”

“You threatened her life,” Nathaniel said. “That’s not complication. That’s war.”

Silence stretched.

Then Richard spoke again, slower this time. “Bring her back. Publicly. Apologize. End this foolishness.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you lose more than your career.”

Nathaniel’s eyes flicked to Iris, fear and fury burning side by side.

“Touch her grandmother,” he said quietly, “and I burn the hospital to the ground.”

The line went dead.

Iris was shaking now, tears streaming freely. “This is my fault.”

Nathaniel pulled her into his chest, holding her tightly. “No. This is what power does when it’s challenged.”

She pressed her face into his shirt, breathing him in, clinging to the only solid thing left in her world. “What do we do?”

He kissed her hair gently. “We go on the offensive.”

They didn’t go back to the city.

Nathaniel made one call after another, his voice clipped, commanding. Names Iris didn’t recognize. Old favors. Quiet debts.

Within an hour, he had confirmation.

Private security rerouted. Surveillance pulled. The man outside her grandmother’s house was gone.

But relief didn’t come.

“Temporary,” Nathaniel said grimly. “They’ll escalate.”

Iris wiped her eyes. “Then I’ll confront them.”

His head snapped toward her. “No.”

“They’re using me as leverage,” she insisted. “If I walk in and give them what they want”

“You think surrender ends this?” he demanded. “It never does.”

She stepped closer, her voice trembling but firm. “Then tell me the truth. All of it.”

He hesitated.

Then he exhaled slowly. “My family has buried scandals for decades. Patients. Politicians. Even doctors.”

Iris’s heart pounded. “Including you?”

“No,” he said immediately. “But they’ve tried.”

Her breath caught. “That video… it wasn’t the first time.”

“No,” he admitted. “Just the one that stuck.”

She reached for him, fingers curling into his shirt. “Then let me stand with you.”

His eyes darkened, emotion breaking through his control. “Standing with me means you don’t get to be innocent anymore.”

“I don’t feel innocent,” she whispered.

The way he looked at her then made her knees weak. Not lust. Not possession.

Respect.

“All right,” he said quietly. “But we do this my way.”

That night, tension crackled between them.

The fear, the anger, the closeness. It all twisted together into something dangerously intimate. Nathaniel’s restraint was fraying, and Iris felt it every time his gaze lingered too long, every time his hand brushed hers.

When he finally kissed her again, it wasn’t gentle.

It was controlled desperation.

His hands held her face like he was memorizing it, his mouth moving against hers with purpose, with promise. Iris gasped softly, fingers digging into his shoulders, heat pooling low in her belly.

He pulled back abruptly, breath ragged.

“If I take this further,” he said hoarsely, “there’s no going back.”

She met his gaze, heart racing. “I don’t want back.”

He rested his forehead against hers, fighting himself.

“We wait,” he said. “Until this is settled.”

She nodded, even though her body screamed in protest.

At dawn, a message arrived.

From a private number.

Board meeting. Emergency session. Today.

Attached was a document.

A legal notice.

Petition for full termination and criminal inquiry against Dr. Nathaniel Hale.

Iris’s blood ran cold.

“They’re coming for you,” she whispered.

Nathaniel read it once. Then again.

His expression hardened into something unrecognizable.

“Good,” he said quietly.

“Good?” Iris echoed.

He looked at her, eyes blazing.

“Because now,” he said, “they’ve finally given me permission to destroy them.”