The Price of a Last Name and the Bloodline We Rebuild
“And that key belongs to my aunt’s locker.”
“I know the layout of that facility.”
Marco looked at Luke and gave a short nod.
“She’s right, boss,” Marco said.
“The hospital isn’t secure anymore if Vivian’s people are watching.”
Luke hesitated, his gaze dropping to my stomach.
He let out a slow, heavy breath.
“Alright,” Luke said.
“But you stay close to me.”
“If anything feels wrong, you tell me immediately.”
I found my boots in the small closet and pulled them on.
My hands shook as I tied the laces.
Marco slipped out of the room first to clear the hallway.
He wore his usual dark coat, his shoulders tense.
A minute later, he signaled for us to follow.
We walked down the quiet, fluorescent-lit service corridor.
The air smelled of industrial bleach and stale coffee.
We exited through a side door that led directly into a wet, dark alley.
The autumn air was freezing, and a thin drizzle clung to my face.
Marco’s dark sedan was idling near the trash bins.
The engine made a low, steady hum.