You should have run the moment Roman Cross said those words.
Every instinct in your body told you that men like him did not simply enter lives—they consumed them. He stood in that clinic like a storm in a tailored black coat, calm on the outside, catastrophic underneath. His offer sat between you like a loaded gun wrapped in velvet.
“The right to make every person who watched you bleed regret their silence,” he said.
You stared at him, your cheek burning beneath the butterfly bandage, your whole body trembling from exhaustion. You wanted to tell him revenge would not pay rent, would not erase the unpaid clinic bill folded in your purse, would not put Liam’s medication on your kitchen counter. But the truth was colder than pride: you were drowning, and Roman Cross had just offered you air.
“I don’t want anyone hurt because of me,” you whispered.
Roman’s eyes stayed on your face. “That is not what you said.”
You frowned. “What?”
“You said because of you.” His voice lowered. “What happened last night happened because of them.”
The clinic lights buzzed overhead. A nurse pretended not to stare from behind the reception desk, but everyone in the room had gone silent since Roman walked in. Even the old man coughing into a tissue near the vending machine had stopped making noise.
You looked at the folder again.
Liam’s name was printed across the top of documents you had spent months begging hospitals to approve. There was a pulmonologist from Mount Sinai. A treatment plan. A medication schedule. A private room already reserved.
Your throat closed.
“How did you do this overnight?” you asked.
Roman did not blink. “I make calls people answer.”
“That’s not normal.”
“No.”
You almost laughed because at least he did not insult you by pretending otherwise.
Then the clinic doors opened behind him, and two men in dark suits entered carrying bags from a pharmacy. One of them placed them gently on the chair beside you. Not tossed. Not dropped. Placed carefully, as if he understood that inside those bags was the difference between your brother breathing and your brother suffering.
You reached for one, saw Liam’s prescription label, and nearly broke.
Roman watched you quietly. “He has a car waiting outside his building. My doctor is with him now. He won’t be moved unless you agree.”
Your head snapped up. “You sent people to my apartment?”
“To protect him.”
“From who?”
Roman’s jaw tightened. “From everyone who now knows your name.”
That was when the fear changed shape.
