Chapter 6 - Shadows in the East WingWhile the syndicate prepared for war downstairs, Elena was standing by the window of the East Wing bedroom, staring out at the expansive lawns stretching toward the estate’s outer walls.
The pain in her ribs had dulled to a manageable ache, thanks to Dr. Vance’s strict regimen of medication and rest. She wore a soft gray cashmere sweater and loose black trousers provided by one of the estate staff, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail that hid most of the bruising on her temple.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
“Come in,” she called out, turning away from the window.
The door opened, and Dr. Aaron Vance stepped inside, carrying a small metal tray with her afternoon bandages and antiseptic ointment.
“Afternoon, Elena,” Aaron smiled warmly, setting the tray down on the bedside table. “How are the ribs feeling today?”
“Much better, Aaron, thank you,” she replied, walking slowly over to sit on the edge of the mattress. “Though I’m going stir-crazy staring at these four walls.”
“Well, Mr. Ashford gave strict orders that you aren't to leave this wing until he clears it,” Aaron said, carefully unwrapping the gauze around her left wrist to inspect the healing lacerations. “And considering the man practically runs this city, defying his orders is usually hazardous to one's health.”
Elena looked down at her wrists, tracing the faint pink scars where the metal had torn her skin. “He’s different than I expected.”
“Dominic?” Aaron looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Most people call him ruthless, cold, a corporate shark with a gun.”
“He didn't have to bring me here,” Elena murmured softly, looking toward the door where Dominic had stood the night before. “He could have left me in that warehouse, or handed me over to the police, and it wouldn't have mattered to him. But he didn't.”
“Dominic protects what he claims,” Aaron said quietly, applying a fresh layer of soothing ointment to her wrist. “And right now, whether you realize it or not, he’s claimed you.”
Elena’s heart skipped a beat at the words. She opened her mouth to reply, but the sudden, violent wail of an estate alarm klaxon cut her off completely.
Wooo-wooo-wooo!
The deep, metallic shriek echoed through the entire East Wing, followed instantly by the automated lockdown doors hissing shut across the corridors.
Aaron dropped the bandage roll, standing up sharply. “That’s the outer perimeter breach alarm.”
Before Elena could even process the warning, the bedroom door flew open, and Dominic strode into the room, his face carved from granite, his hand resting instinctively on the grip of his Sig Sauer.
“Get away from the windows,” Dominic commanded instantly, his eyes locking onto Elena.
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“What’s happening?” she asked, stepping back as Dominic crossed the room in two long strides.
“Caldwell didn't wait for midnight,” Dominic said coldly, his jaw tight. “His strike team just hit the front gates with an armored truck. They’re inside the compound.”
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