Chapter 6 - The Sanctuary of Blackwood
The safehouse in Blackwood was not a concrete bunker or a high-rise penthouse.
It was an old stone estate built in the 1920s, hidden deep within a forest of dark pine trees forty miles north of the city. High iron gates and sophisticated motion sensors guarded the perimeter, but from the outside, it looked like a secluded country home.
Tessa sat in a large leather armchair in the library, a wool blanket wrapped around her shoulders, a mug of tea growing cold on the table beside her.
It was 5:00 AM.
Marcus, Rafe’s second-in-command, stood by the stone fireplace, his phone pressed to his ear, his face grim in the low firelight.
"Understood," Marcus said into the receiver. "Secure the perimeter and hold the main docks. I’ll update the Don when he arrives."
He ended the call and looked over at Tessa.
"He's alive," Marcus said plainly.
Tessa didn't move, but the breath she’d been holding for three hours finally escaped her lips in a long, shaky sigh. "How bad?"
"Two bullet grazes to his left arm. The abdominal wound torn wide open. He refused to let the hospital staff stitch him up—he made his personal physician meet him at the warehouse complex." Marcus shook his head, a faint, respectful smile touching his weathered face. "The man is built like an engine that runs on spite."
"He's an idiot," Tessa corrected sharply, sitting up straight. "He's going to go into septic shock if those wounds aren't cleaned properly."
Marcus stepped toward her, his heavy hands folded behind his back. "Miss Ward... I've served the Calder family for twenty years. I served Rafe's father before him. I've seen Rafe take three bullets, two knife wounds, and a federal indictment without losing his temper."
He paused, his dark eyes studying her carefully.
"Tonight, when he called me from the hospital stairwell, his voice was shaking," Marcus continued softly. "Not because he was surrounded by Valenti’s shooters. But because he was afraid you wouldn't make it to my car. He has never, in his entire life, asked anyone to protect something for him. He always does it himself."
Tessa looked down at her hands. Her knuckles were bruised from slamming against the stairwell door.
"He thinks he's a monster, Marcus," she said quietly.
"He is a monster," Marcus replied without hesitation. "To the people who try to hurt his family, he is the worst nightmare they will ever see. But to us... he's the only reason we have a roof over our heads. You saw the man behind the wall, Miss Ward. Most people run away before they ever get close enough to look."
The sound of heavy tires crunching over gravel echoed through the long driveway outside.
Marcus instantly turned, heading toward the grand entrance hall.
Tessa stood up, dropping the blanket. She marched right behind him.
The heavy front doors swung open.
Rafe stepped into the foyer.
He looked like he’d been dragged through the depths of hell. His clothes were shredded, dark with blood and soot. His left arm was wrapped in a crude, bloody pressure bandage, and his face was pale, glistening with a cold sweat that signaled an advancing fever.
Behind him, two guards tried to support his weight, but Rafe shoved them off, leaning heavily against the doorframe, his massive frame trembling from sheer physical exhaustion.
His gray eyes swept the dimly lit foyer until they found Tessa.
For a long heartbeat, nobody moved.
Then Rafe took one heavy, uneven step forward.
"Tessa," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.
May you like
He didn't make it a second step.
His knees buckled, and 280 pounds of iron and muscle began to collapse toward the hardwood floor.
