My patience thins. “And?”
He hesitates. The tiny hitch in his breath makes my jaw lock.
“She went inside,” he finally says. “Through the main doors. I never saw her come out. I sat there for hours. Nothing.”
I tilt my head, eyes narrowing. “So she vanished into thin air while you sat in your car?”
“I checked exits,” he insists, hands lifting in a helpless gesture. “Every one. Stayed until the afternoon shift came in. No sign of her.”
“Did you go inside?” My voice drops further, all restraint stretched to breaking.
His gaze falters. “No. I thought maybe she was with a patient. Figured she’d come out on her own.”
A beat of silence stretches, heavy and dangerous.
“And when she didn’t?” I press.
He swallows again, shoulders slumping. “I…left. I should’ve called you. I know.”
I stare at him until the weight of it makes him shift in his chair. “You lost her. Then you walked away.”
I step in, close enough for him to hear the subtle shift of my weight on the concrete. “You were handpicked, Caesar. Trusted. You know how thin that trust runs for me.”
“I know.” His voice is hoarse, almost whispering. “I do. And I’m sorry, boss, I am. She moved cleaner than I expected. Quieter. Smarter.”
“While she is smarter than you, you were the one who underestimated her.” I crouch until I’m eye-level, my voice even, controlled. “I think you know this, Caesar, that in my organization, a mistake this big doesn’t end with words.”
He swallows hard, throat bobbing. I don’t let him look away.
“Take his right eye,” I say without raising my voice. Two of my men step forward instantly. Caesar jerks, panic flooding his features, but I don’t blink. His begging doesn’t move me. The room fills with the sound of his scream, raw and unrestrained, echoing off the concrete walls as rough hands pin him down. Steel flashes under the harsh light, then blood. It’s messy, wet, brutal—but I don’t look away. I want him to feel me watching, and want him to know his pain is personal.
When it’s done, he’s slumped and trembling, one socket ruined, his good eye wide and shining with tears. I lean in close, my words sharp enough to carve into him.
“My men will stitch you up.” My tone is steady, colder than steel. “But understand this—respect isn’t given back to you. You’ll have to earn it, inch by inch, until I decide you’re worthy to stand at my back again.”
He whimpers, and finally, that one good eye squeezes shut, unable to bear the sight of me towering over him. His body shakes as another scream tears loose, ragged and broken, filling the space like a confession.
“Next time you disappoint me,” I continue, straightening, “I won’t waste my time taking the other eye. It will be your life, Caesar.”
I walk out with my jaw locked, every muscle in my body wound tight. The pieces aren’t fitting right. Something about the hospital doesn’t sit clean. And if I’m right, someone helped her vanish.
And I need to know who that someone is.
It’s early,just past seven in the morning, and the waiting area is already beginning to fill with tired families and overworked staff. The air smells faintly of coffee and disinfectant, and the buzz of conversation hums beneath the occasional ring of a desk phone.
The woman at the front desk looks like she doesn’t miss much. Early sixties, clean scrubs, silver hair clipped into a no-nonsense twist. Her back is straight, her fingers rest lightly on the keyboard, and her eyes follow my approach with a caution that doesn’t surprise me.
I offer a calm, polished nod. “Good morning. I’m looking forsomeone who might’ve been here three days ago. Just trying to make sure she’s alright.”
Her mouth tightens a fraction. “Patient name?”
“She wasn’t a patient.” I pause, pulling my phone from the inside pocket of my jacket. “She came to visit someone. Early morning hours, could have used the name Lilly or Bianca.”
“I don’t have any visitors registered under that name during that time.”
“Would a picture help?”
She eyes me suspiciously before nodding. I pull up a still frame from the club’s security feed. It’s cropped to show her clearly and to only show her face—long dark hair, stage makeup still sharp under the lights. The shot is from behind the bar just before her set, one of the few moments she wasn’t moving. I turn the screen toward the woman.
