at Lena once and all expression left his face.

Not because he was cold.

Because he had become focused.

“Get the medic up here now,” he said without taking his eyes off her.

One of the suited men moved immediately.

The stranger stepped closer, but not enough to crowd her.

“I’m going to ask two questions.

Nod if yes, shake your head if no.

Can you stay conscious?”

Lena nodded.

“Did he do this?”

She looked past him at Damon.

Damon’s eyes were wild.

“Baby, listen to me.

I didn’t mean—”

The stranger did not even turn around.

“If he speaks again before I permit it, break his jaw.”

One of the men behind him answered, “Yes, sir.”

Damon went silent so fast it was almost comic.

Lena nodded.

The stranger held her gaze for another second, then said, “All right.”

It was only two words.

But the hallway changed when he said them.

Like an order had traveled invisibly through everyone there.

A medic appeared carrying a hard black bag.

Lena was eased to sit on the edge of the bed while they checked her pulse and breathing.

She heard words like likely fracture, possible internal injury, shallow respiration.

They wrapped her chest lightly and put oxygen under her nose.

Every breath still hurt, but less wildly.

The stranger stood near the bedroom door, phone in hand, issuing instructions in a low voice.

By the time Lena focused enough to track them, she realized he was arranging an ambulance, a private security detail, and someone to meet them at County General before admission.

Not asking.

Arranging.

When the medic stepped back, the stranger finally looked at her again.

“My name is Viktor Sorelli,” he said.

Even dazed and in pain, Lena knew the name.

Most people in the city did, though they pretended not to.

Officially, Viktor Sorelli owned restaurants, shipping warehouses, and a luxury car service.

Unofficially, his name hovered in rumor wherever money disappeared, rivals vanished from public life, or men in power suddenly learned humility.

He was called many things depending on who was speaking.

Businessman.

Philanthropist.

Criminal.

Untouchable.

Mafia boss was the phrase used only in whispers.

Lena stared at him.

“You texted me once,” he said.

“Months ago.

You asked if I was dangerous.”

She remembered the answer now.

Only to the right people.

“I keep my word,” Viktor said.

There was no arrogance in the sentence.

Only fact.

From the hallway, Damon made a sound like he had forgotten how breathing worked.

“Please,” he said.

“I didn’t know who you were.”

Viktor turned his head slightly, finally acknowledging him.

“That is the least interesting thing about tonight.”

Lena should have been terrified.

Instead, what she felt first was something she had almost forgotten existed.

Safety.

Not comfort.

Not peace.

Just the brutal, overwhelming realization that for this one moment, Damon could not reach her.

The ambulance arrived within minutes.

One of Viktor’s men rode behind them while Viktor followed in a black SUV.

At the hospital, doors opened too quickly, forms were bypassed too easily, and Lena was moved through imaging and evaluation with astonishing speed.

The diagnosis came back exactly as she feared: two fractured ribs, one badly displaced, and early signs of a small pneumothorax.

She was lucky, the trauma physician