Liam’s eyes narrowed. “Who is he?”
You opened your mouth, but no answer came.
Roman stepped forward. “Roman Cross.”
Liam’s expression changed.
Even sick teenagers knew certain names in New York. Names whispered in news reports, in old neighborhood rumors, in warnings from people who had seen too much. Liam’s fingers tightened around the blanket.
“What do you want with my sister?” he asked.
The room went silent.
You looked at Roman, ready to stand between them if you had to.
But Roman did not look offended.
He looked almost impressed.
“She saved my mother,” Roman said. “Now I’m returning the debt.”
Liam stared at him. “People like you don’t return debts. You collect them.”
A faint curve touched Roman’s mouth. “Your sister said the same thing.”
“Because she’s smart.”
“Yes,” Roman said. “She is.”
Heat rose to your face, ridiculous and unwanted.
The doctor began packing her medical case. “We should move him soon.”
Liam looked at you. “I don’t want to go anywhere without you.”
“I’m coming,” you said immediately.
Roman’s phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen, and whatever softness had almost existed in the room disappeared. His face became still. Too still.
“What?” you asked.
He did not answer you at first. He spoke to one of his men instead. “Lock down the rear entrance. No one leaves.”
Your stomach dropped. “Roman.”
He looked at you then.
“Vanessa Sterling just filed a police report.”
