The neon sign of St. Jude Memorial flickered through the rain-streaked window of the breakroom, casting a sickly red glow over my half-eaten tuna sandwich

The heavy oak door of the master study slammed shut behind us. With trembling hands, I threw the deadbolt and punched the manual steel security lock into place just as a burst of automatic gunfire chewed through the outer wood of the door.

"Claire..." Dominic groaned, sliding down the side of the mahogany bookcase until he hit the floor. His skin had taken on that familiar, terrifying ashen gray hue. His breathing was shallow, his chest barely rising.

The neurotoxin was shutting down his respiratory pathways. Exactly the same way it had tried to kill baby Leonardo.

"Stay with me, Dominic. Look at me!" I dropped to my knees beside him, ripping open my backpack and tearing through medical supplies I always kept on hand—syringes, saline flushes, emergency airways, and basic diagnostic tools.

"I'm... fine," Dominic forced out through clenched teeth, though a thin line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. "The safe... behind the portrait... emergency medical kit..."

I didn't waste a second. I spun around, spotted a massive oil painting of a 19th-century Italian estate on the wall, ripped it off its hinges, and exposed a heavy digital keypad safe built into the reinforced concrete wall.

"Code?" I shouted over his ragged breathing.

"Leonardo's... birthday," Dominic whispered, his eyes fluttering closed. "Month and day... four digits."

Of course.

I punched in the numbers. 0-4-0-3.

Click.

The heavy steel door of the safe swung open. Inside weren't stacks of cash or illegal firearms. It was a pristine, military-grade field medical kit, complete with stabilized chemical compounds and emergency antitoxins.

I grabbed the kit, scrambled back to Dominic's side, and slammed it open on the floor.

My nursing training kicked in with terrifying clarity. I scanned the vials inside the kit until my eyes locked onto a small, amber glass bottle labeled with a universal neutralizer code: SYN-ANTIDOTE-9.

Vance had manufactured the neurotoxin, which meant he had kept a broad-spectrum stabilizer in his emergency stash just in case of accidental exposure.

"Hold on," I whispered, tearing open a sterile syringe and drawing the amber liquid from the vial.

Dominic’s eyes opened slightly, his dark gaze locking onto mine with immense, quiet trust. He didn't flinch as I grabbed his arm, rolling up his damp sleeve to expose a vein in his forearm.

"This is going to burn," I warned him.

"Do it," he breathed.

I plunged the needle straight into the vein and pressed the plunger down smoothly, delivering the entire dose of the neutralizing agent directly into his bloodstream.

Then we waited.

One second. Five seconds. Ten seconds.

Dominic’s body went completely rigid. A low, agonizing groan escaped his throat, and his head dropped backward against the wall.

"No, no, no," I choked out, pressing two fingers frantically against his carotid artery.

The pulse was faint. Too faint.

"Come on," I begged, tears blurring my vision. "You saved your son. You're not going to die on a study floor."

Suddenly, Dominic’s back arched violently. He gasped, sucking in a massive, ragged lungful of air as if he had just broken through the surface of deep water. The ashen gray tint on his skin slowly receded, replaced by a flush of returning blood flow.

He coughed harshly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and opened his eyes. The sharp, dangerous intelligence was back in his dark gaze.

"Well," Dominic rasped out, his voice hoarse. "That... definitely burns."

I let out a loud, watery laugh of sheer relief, dropping my forehead against his shoulder for a brief second before pulling back, wiping my face with my sleeve. "You idiot. You absolute idiot, jumping in front of that dispersal pistol."

Dominic offered a faint, crooked smile, his hand reaching up to gently touch my cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "I told you, Claire. In my world, loyalty is everything. And you're mine now."

Before I could process the warmth spreading through my chest at his words, a loud, heavy boom echoed from the hallway.

The tactical operatives outside were using an explosive charge to blow the master study door.

"They're coming through," Dominic said, his voice instantly snapping back into tactical command mode. He pushed himself up against the bookshelf, using it to steady his legs, and grabbed his Glock from the floor.

"Can you move?" I asked, grabbing my medical kit.