Chapter 8 - Room 614
Room 614 was inside St. Vincent Private Surgical Center in Manhattan.
Luka had spent eleven days there after he was shot.
That was the simple version.
The truth was worse.
“My injuries weren’t from a random robbery.”
Luka stood at my apartment window.
“Someone tried to kill me.”
“Why?”
“At the time, I thought it was business.”
“My family owns shipping, construction, hotels, and medical investments.”
“We have enemies.”
“But six months later, your father contacted me.”
“He believed the attack was connected to Hale Medical.”
I stared at him.
“Because of your genetic sample?”
“Yes.”
“Why would anyone try to kill you for that?”
“They wouldn’t.”
Luka turned.
“They tried to kill me because I discovered money missing from a medical research partnership my family funded.”
“Hale was involved.”
“So was Ryan.”
The room went silent.
“Ryan?”
“He was a junior financial consultant then.”
Seven years ago.
The exact year Ryan claimed he was struggling to find steady work.
According to him, we met during the worst period of his career.
Apparently it had been another lie.
“What happened in Room 614?”
Luka’s jaw tightened.
“Your father came to see me.”
“He had documents proving samples were being transferred between facilities under false identification codes.”
“M-17 was one.”
“He told me to stay quiet until he could identify everyone involved.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
Luka’s mouth tightened.
“I confronted Hale.”
“Two nights later someone entered my hospital room.”
My skin prickled.
“What happened?”
“I survived.”
That was all he said.
The tattoos crawling over his hands suddenly made more sense.
Some of them disappeared beneath scar tissue.
“My father saved you?”
“In a way.”
“He arrived minutes after the attack.”
“He forced the hospital to move me.”
“After that, I trusted him.”
I held Grace closer.
“Then why didn’t you protect him?”
The question hurt both of us.
Luka didn’t defend himself.
“I tried.”
“What does that mean?”
“Robert stopped communicating eleven months ago.”
“Three days after calling me about you.”
I felt anger rise.
“Everyone keeps deciding what I’m allowed to know.”
“Ryan did it.”
“My father did it.”
“Now you’re doing it.”
“You’re right.”
His answer stopped me.
Luka placed his phone on the table.
“No more secrets from me.”
Almost immediately, the phone vibrated.
Naomi answered.
Her expression changed.
“What?”
Luka asked.
She looked at me.
“Someone just entered your apartment building.”
“Who?”
Naomi turned the screen.
The lobby camera showed Ryan.
May you like
He carried a metal toolbox.
And he was heading directly toward my apartment.
