Chapter 4 - The Debt of Blood
Sarah stood trembling in Damian’s office, clutching Lily's hand. The mafia boss sat behind his desk, looking pale but terrifyingly imposing in a black shirt.
"Ms. Walsh," Damian said softly.
"I didn't know, sir," Sarah blurted out. "She shouldn't have been on that floor. I'm so sorry—"
"Stop." Damian raised a hand. He looked down at Lily, who was staring at him with large, unafraid green eyes. She still had the pink backpack.
Damian slowly stood up, walked around the desk, and knelt so he was eye-level with the four-year-old.
"You gave me your medicine," Damian said, his voice softer than Silas had ever heard it.
Lily nodded. "My mommy says if someone can't breathe, you have to help them. Even if you're scared."
Damian felt a phantom ache in his chest—a space that had been hollowed out three years ago when Mia died. He looked up at Sarah. He saw the faint, faded bruise on her jawline. He saw the cheap, worn shoes she wore.
"Why do you only have one spare EpiPen?" Damian asked.
Sarah swallowed hard. "Insurance doesn't kick in for another thirty days. They cost six hundred dollars a set. It was all I had left."
Damian stood up. "Silas."
"Yes, Boss."
"Ms. Walsh no longer cleans this house. Move her and Lily to the master guest suite in my personal wing. Clear a tab at the pharmacy; buy every EpiPen they have in the state of Connecticut. And assign two men to their door. No one gets near them."
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Sarah gasped. "Mr. Cross, I don't—"
"Your daughter gave up her life-line for a man she doesn't know," Damian interrupted, his eyes locking onto Sarah's. "In my world, a life debt is absolute. You are under my protection now. Both of you. Forever."
