Chapter 4 - The Lion's Den
The nursery of St. Mercy's NICU was a quiet room filled with the soft, rhythmic hum of incubators. Vincent stood
in front of one of the plastic domes, dressed in sterile blue scrubs over his clothes.
Inside the incubator lay his son. The boy was tiny, his chest rising and falling rapidly under a small oxygen
mask. A monitor taped to his foot showed a steady, healthy heartbeat. Vincent reached through the circular rubber
ports of the incubator, his large, scarred hand gently touching the baby's tiny, fragile foot. The infant's toes curled
around his fingertip.
"Leo," Vincent murmured, his voice softer than anyone in Chicago had ever heard it. "Your name is Leo. You're
a Kane. You're going to be strong."
"He looks just like you," a voice said from the doorway.
Vincent turned his head slightly to see Dominic standing there. "Is the apartment secure?"
"Yes," Dominic replied, stepping into the room. "I've placed four of our best men outside Emma's ICU room,
disguised as hospital security. Another four are watching the perimeter. Brooke has been trying to call you. She's
panicking, Vin. She knows you aren't at the penthouse, and she's starting to realize you aren't answering her texts."
"Let her panic," Vincent said, his eyes returning to his son. "Have you located where Emma was living?"
"A dingy studio apartment in Pilsen," Dominic said, handing Vincent a small manila folder. "The rent was three
weeks overdue. The landlord was preparing to evict her this Friday. That's why she was working so late at the diner,
despite being eight months pregnant. She was trying to save enough money to keep a roof over her head for when
the baby arrived."
Vincent gripped the folder so tightly the cardboard crumpled in his hand. Every detail was a fresh knife to his
throat. Emma had grown up in a comfortable, middle-class home. She had never known hardship until she met him.
He had promised to protect her, to keep her safe from the darkness of his world. Instead, he had cast her into a
deeper, colder dark than she could have ever imagined.
"Pay the landlord," Vincent ordered, his voice thick with rage. "Buy the entire building. Demolish it. Evict him.
And move all of Emma's things to the penthouse. I want her room prepared exactly how she likes it. Jasmine
candles, soft blankets. Everything."
"And the baby's room?"
"The nursery next to my master suite. Spare no expense. I want the best pediatric nurses in the state on payroll,
twenty-four-seven."
"Understood," Dominic said. "But Vin, Brooke's father, Marcus Ellison, just called a meeting at the docks
tonight. He says there's a problem with the union workers. He wants you there personally. I think he's trying to see
if you're distracted."
Vincent slowly withdrew his hand from the incubator, gently tucking the blanket around his son's tiny shoulders.
He pulled his hand out of the port and zipped up his scrubs.
"I am distracted, Dominic," Vincent said, turning to his brother with a cold, terrifying smile that promised
violence. "But not the way he thinks. Let's go to the docks. It's time to start stripping the Ellisons of their illusions."
May you like
Before he left the room, Vincent looked back at the tiny boy in the incubator. "Watch over him, Dominic. If
anything happens to my son while I am gone, there won't be enough of Chicago left to bury."
