Part 2: The Gates of Coalfield Road
The man at the door did not blink. His eyes, small and hard like river stones, scanned Emmett from head to foot, pausing on the oversized leather vest and the shivering toddler clutched against the boy's chest.
"Who sent you?" the man asked. His voice sounded like gravel grinding in a cement mixer.
"Her father," Emmett said through chattering teeth. He could barely feel his jaw. "He collapsed outside St. Catherine’s."
The refrigerator-sized man went entirely still. The ambient noise of the room behind him—laughter, the clink of glasses, the low thrum of a heavy bass line—seemed to drop an octave.
"Name?"
"He didn't give me his name," Emmett replied, his arms tightening around Lily as a fresh gust of freezing sleet whipped across the pavement. "He said to bring her to Coalfield Road. He said... he said Burnham."
A second man appeared behind the first. He was leaner, with sharp features and a jagged scar that mirrored the one on Luca's jaw. He pushed past the guard, his heavy boots echoing on the concrete.
"Garrett, what is it?" the leaner man demanded, then stopped dead.
Lily peeked her head out from beneath the collar of the giant leather vest. Her cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, but her dark eyes were wide and steady.
"Uncle Jax," she piped up, her small voice cutting through the storm.
Jax Burnham froze. The color drained from his face so fast it looked like a magic trick. In two strides, he was at the threshold. He didn't care about the rain or the wind; he reached out with hands that looked capable of snapping iron bars and gently lifted Lily away from Emmett.
"Lily?" Jax breathed, pulling her against his chest. "Where is your father?"
"He fell down," Lily said, her lower lip trembling. "A man in a white room took him."
Jax looked up at Emmett. The teenage boy was swaying on his feet, his blue lips parted in a silent gasp for air. The snow was gathering heavily in Emmett's dark hair, and his split boots were crusted in frozen slush.
"Garrett," Jax said, his voice dropping into a register that made the giant guard snap to attention. "Get him inside. Now. Bring the medical kit, and call Dr. Vance. Tell him to get his ass down here immediately."
Garrett didn't ask questions. He reached out and grabbed Emmett by the shoulder, lifting the exhausted boy as easily as if he weighed nothing, and hauled him over the threshold into the blinding warmth of the Burnham compound.
The heavy oak door slammed shut, cutting off the howl of the deadly storm outside.
Inside, the room was vast, dominated by a massive stone fireplace and leather furniture. Twenty men sat scattered around long wooden tables, all of them wearing the winged emblem of the Burnham syndicate. Every single conversation died the second Emmett stumbled across the rug.
"Who the hell is that?" someone asked from the corner.
"Shut up, Cole," Jax snapped, carrying Lily toward a pair of older women who had rushed out from a back hallway. "Maura, take her. Get her warm milk and check her over."
Maura, a fierce-looking woman with silver hair pulled back into a tight bun, scooped Lily into her arms. "Of course, baby. Come with grandma."
Jax turned back to Garrett, who was lowering Emmett into a heavy armchair near the blazing hearth. The boy was shivering so violently his teeth clicked together like castanets.
"He carried her," Jax said, his eyes fixed on Emmett. "All the way from St. Catherine's?"
"That's what he says," Garrett grunted, unzipping the heavy leather vest that still bore Luca's scent. "Kid looks like he's about to freeze solid from the inside out."
"I... I have to go," Emmett stammered, trying to push himself up from the chair. His legs refused to cooperate. They were entirely numb, heavy as lead. "I have to... my mom..."
"Sit down, kid," Jax ordered, stepping closer. He knelt beside the chair, his intense gaze studying Emmett's bruised face, the raw skin on his knuckles, and the pathetic state of his torn sneakers. "What's your name?"
"Emmett," the boy whispered, his eyes fluttering shut for a second. "Emmett Holloway."
Jax's expression shifted. A flicker of recognition—or perhaps calculation—crossed his sharp features. He reached out and placed a heavy, warm hand on Emmett's knee.
"Emmett," Jax said slowly. "You just carried the daughter of the Burnham king through a Category 4 winter storm wearing nothing, and you handed her back safe and sound. In this house, debts are never ignored."
Dr. Vance, an older man carrying a black leather medical bag, pushed his way through the cluster of watching men. "Move aside. Let me see the boy."
May you like
As the doctor began cutting away Emmett's ruined boots to examine his frostbitten feet, Jax stood up and looked around the room. The two hundred men of the Burnham inner circle—captains, enforcers, lieutenants—were all watching in absolute, dead silence.
"Luca is at St. Catherine's," Jax announced, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "Cole, grab a car. We're going to the hospital. Garrett, secure the perimeter. And you..." Jax looked down at Emmett, who was drifting into unconsciousness as the heat from the fire hit his frozen skin. "...you aren't going anywhere until I know you're breathing on your own."
