Chapter 2 - The Shadows in the Nursery
By morning, light filtered through the heavy velvet curtains of the estate's east wing.
The Rourke estate was a sprawling, stone fortress built in the 1920s, surrounded by twenty acres of dense woodland and protected by a twelve-foot wrought-iron fence patrolling with armed guards.
Inside the third-floor nursery, the air was warm, smelling faintly of eucalyptus and fresh linens.
Eli sat propped up against three plush pillows, a blue plastic oxygen cannula running beneath his small nose. His color had returned—a soft pink flush over his cheeks—though he remained fragile and thin.
Hannah sat on the edge of his bed, holding a small wooden spoon filled with warm chicken broth.
"One more bite for the bear," Hannah coaxed softly, offering the spoon.
Eli shook his head, burying his face deeper into the stuffed teddy bear Camden had placed beside him earlier. "Where's Uncle Cam?"
"He's downstairs, sweetie," Hannah murmured, smoothing his soft dark curls. "He has some work to do. But he promised he'd come back for lunch."
"Is he mad at me?" Eli whispered, his large brown eyes glistening with anxiety. "Because I cried in the cold box?"
Hannah felt a sharp pain in her heart. She dropped the spoon back into the bowl and pulled the little boy into her arms, pressing her lips against his forehead.
"Oh, Eli, no. He's not mad at you. He's never going to be mad at you. He loves you more than the whole world."
The door opened silently.
Camden stood on the threshold. He had finally changed out of his dirty clothes. He wore a crisp black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, dark trousers, and a shoulder holster housing his black semi-automatic pistol.
He looked formidable, dark, and utterly out of place in a room filled with yellow wallpaper and stuffed animals.
Eli’s face instantly brightened. "Uncle Cam!"
Camden’s harsh features visibly softened. The dark shadow that seemed to permanently rest over his eyes melted away as he stepped into the room. He walked over to the bed, dropping to one knee beside Hannah.
"Hey, kiddo," Camden said, his deep voice dropping into a gentle rumble. He reached out a broad, calloused hand and lightly tapped Eli’s nose. "How are you feeling?"
"Nurse Hannah made me drink soup," Eli reported solemnly. "It was hot."
"Soup is good for you," Camden smiled, though his gaze briefly drifted to Hannah.
She was sitting less than a foot away from him. He could smell the lavender soap she had used in the shower, underlain by the subtle, warm scent of her skin.
For the past eleven months, Camden’s life had been defined by gunpowder, betrayal, and cold calculation. Having this woman and his nephew sitting together in the morning light felt like a strange, beautiful fever dream he didn't quite know how to process.
"Jackson is outside," Camden said quietly to Hannah, his tone shifting to business. "He has a legal team waiting down in the library."
Hannah’s hands went still on Eli’s blanket. "Legal team? For what?"
"You've been missing for three weeks," Camden explained. "The police think you're dead. Your apartment was ransacked two days ago by Moretti's men looking for your personal records. We need to officially report you as alive, but under witness protection under my custody."
Hannah stood up slowly, stepping away from the bed. "I don't need a witness protection program managed by the mob, Mr. Rourke."
"It's not managed by the mob," Camden said, standing up to his full six-foot-two height, towering over her. "It's managed by me. There's a difference."
"Is there?" Hannah countered, her eyes flashing. "You wear a gun in a child's bedroom."
Camden didn't blink. "I wear a gun in a child's bedroom because the men who put him in that freezer are still walking the streets of New York. And until I find Victor Moretti, every room in this house is a battleground."
Eli looked between them, his small lip beginning to quiver. "Uncle Cam... are you fighting?"
Camden instantly looked down at the boy. He closed his eyes, took a slow breath, and knelt back down by the bed.
"No, Eli," Camden said softly, placing a hand on Eli’s head. "We aren't fighting. Nurse Hannah was just reminding me of my manners."
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He looked back up at Hannah, his dark eyes holding hers with an intensity that sent a strange, unexpected shiver down her spine.
"Come downstairs when you're finished," Camden said quietly. "We need to talk about Victor Moretti."
