Erica stepped out of the ICU.
She wore a hospital gown that was three sizes too big, the thin cotton doing nothing to block the chill of the air conditioning. Her bare feet slapped against the freezing marble floor. With every step she took, the ORACLE System fired micro-electrical pulses into her leg muscles, deadening the residual pain from her shattered bones.
She walked to the VIP elevator bank. She pressed the down button. The red numbers above the metal doors slowly ticked downward.
Ding.
The stainless steel doors slid open.
Erica stopped. Standing dead center in the elevator car was Ebert Chase.
He was just slipping his sleek smartphone into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, having finished a call. He looked up. For a fraction of a second, genuine surprise flickered in his dark eyes when he saw her standing there, bleeding and barefoot.
Erica didn't hesitate. Her face remained a mask of absolute indifference. She stepped into the elevator, completely ignoring his presence, and hit the button for the ground floor.
The doors slid shut.
The elevator car was small. The air instantly thickened. The rich, heavy scent of Ebert's cedar cologne clashed violently with the sharp, metallic smell of Erica's fresh blood.
Ebert's gaze slowly dragged down her body. He looked at the blood dripping from the torn IV site on her hand. He looked at her pale, bare feet pressed against the floor.
He let out a low, amused breath. He adjusted his cuffs.
"Got your payout and running away already?" Ebert asked, his voice a lazy, arrogant drawl that filled the tight space. "You didn't even stop to put on shoes."
Erica kept her eyes locked on the floor indicator lights.
"It's called a tactical retreat, not running away," Erica replied, her voice flat and cold. "Your vocabulary is severely lacking, Mr. Chase."
Ebert chuckled. It was a dark, rumbling sound in his chest. He was surrounded by women who hung on his every word. This feral, bleeding creature who snapped back at him was entirely new.
Suddenly, the elevator violently jerked.
The overhead lights flickered and died for a split second as the hospital's backup generators kicked in.
The sudden loss of inertia threw Erica off balance. Her newly fused spine couldn't compensate fast enough. She stumbled sideways.
Ebert reacted instantly. His arm shot out. His large, warm hand wrapped firmly around her waist, catching her before she hit the wall.
Through the thin fabric of the gown, Ebert felt her muscles. They didn't yield. The second his hand touched her, her waist locked up like a slab of solid iron. There was absolutely nothing soft about her.
In the exact moment she regained her center of gravity, Erica's right hand blurred.
She flattened her fingers into a rigid blade. She drove it straight up, pressing the hard edge of her hand directly against Ebert's carotid artery.
They were inches apart. Their breath mingled in the dim light.
Ebert looked down at the hand pressed against his throat. His heart rate didn't spike. Instead, a dark, predatory fire ignited in his eyes. He didn't let go of her waist. He actually pulled her a fraction of an inch closer.
"In Manhattan," Ebert whispered, his voice dangerously soft, "anyone who puts their hand on my throat ends up at the bottom of the Hudson River."
Erica didn't blink. She stared right back into his aggressive eyes. The corner of her mouth twitched upward.
"Maybe today you'll be the first exception," she hissed.
Warning. Target extremely hostile. Recommend immediate distance. The system flashed red across her retinas.
The elevator lights snapped back on. The car resumed its smooth descent.
Erica shoved her hand against his chest, breaking his grip. She stepped back, pressing her shoulders into the opposite corner of the elevator.
Ebert casually smoothed the front of his suit jacket. He looked at her, clearly savoring the adrenaline of the physical contact.
"I can offer you top-tier security and unlimited resources," Ebert said, his tone shifting to pure business. "I can help you crush Colten. But you work for me. You become my blade."
Erica looked at him like he was an idiot.
"I don't need protection," she stated, her voice dripping with venom. "And I'm not trading one cage for another cage with your name on it. Keep your Wall Street balance sheets away from me, or I'll tear you apart too."
The elevator chimed. The ground floor button lit up.
The doors slid open to the bustling hospital lobby.
Erica walked out without looking back.
Ebert stood in the elevator. He watched her bare feet disappear into the crowd. The smirk on his face deepened into a genuine smile. He tapped the earpiece hidden in his ear.
"Put a twenty-four-hour surveillance team on her," Ebert ordered. "Every move."
Erica felt the heavy weight of his stare on her back the second she stepped out. She knew she had just caught the attention of a much bigger, much deadlier wolf.
She walked toward the lobby seating area, scanning for a device connected to the internet.
Then, she stopped. Through the glass doors, she spotted two very familiar faces.
