d57.NO ONE COULD APPROACH THE DYING, UNCONSCIOUS MAFIA BOSS — UNTIL HIS DESPERATE GUARD DOG PICKED A POOR NURSE...

By five in the morning, the heavy storm outside had passed, leaving behind a cold, mist-shrouded dawn.

Adrian had been placed back under a lighter, safer sedative to allow his torn abdominal muscles to heal without risk of re-rupture. Dr. Harrison had checked his vitals, pronounced him out of immediate danger, and left the room to grab a few hours of sleep in the guest quarters.

Clara knew she had a narrow window of time.

She turned to Marco, who was standing guard near the doorway. "He needs specific medical records from his primary desk—his allergies and past surgical notes from five years ago aren't in the digital system here. Where is his main study?"

Marco frowned slightly. "The study is a crime scene. Crime scene techs swept it, but it's locked down until state investigators arrive at eight."

"I just need two minutes to check his desk drawers," Clara urged softly. "Dr. Harrison needs to verify his liver enzymes before approving the secondary antibiotic strain."

Marco hesitated, looking at Titan, who was standing right beside Clara, staring at the door as if waiting for her to move. Marco let out a heavy sigh. "Alright. But I go with you. And we make it fast."

They walked up the back stairwell, avoiding the main hall where workers were already boarding up shattered windows and clearing charred debris. Titan walked silently between Clara and Marco, his heavy paws dropping with phantom lightness on the polished wood.

The study door was marked with yellow tape. Marco unlocked the heavy oak door and pushed it open, illuminating the room with a high-powered tactical flashlight.

The room smelled of old paper, leather, expensive scotch, and burnt wiring. The massive mahogany desk sat near the far wall, shrouded in shadows.

"You have two minutes," Marco said, standing near the doorway, keeping his eyes on the hallway.

Clara walked straight to the desk. Titan followed, immediately dropping his head onto the lower left corner of the heavy wooden furniture—the exact spot where Adrian had been sitting when the attack began.

Clara pulled the silver key from her pocket. She looked around the desk. There were three standard drawers on the right, all unlocked and emptied by the security sweep. There was no visible keyhole on the mahogany surface.

Titan let out a soft huff, pushing his nose against the bottom of the knee-well under the desk.

Clara dropped to her knees, shining a small penlight under the desk frame. Tucked into the dark corner near the floorboards, completely invisible unless someone was crawling beneath the desk, was a small, circular steel lock mechanism.

It bore the exact same crest as the silver key: a rising phoenix over a crossed blade.

Clara’s heart hammered against her ribs. She looked back at Marco. He had his back turned, watching the corridor.

She inserted the silver key into the hidden lock. It turned smoothly with a heavy, oiled click.

A tiny hidden compartment—no larger than a cigar box—popped open from the solid mahogany wood near the floor.

Inside lay two items: a black leather notebook filled with handwritten names and dates, and a small, high-capacity digital drive stamped with a red seal.

Before Clara could reach inside, Titan suddenly whipped his head toward the open study door, his ears pinning back, a terrifying, silent rage exploding through his posture.