Chapter 2

"This is the surgeon you brought me?"

Sienna's head whips toward Marcus. She doesn't even try to hide the disgust.

She drags her eyes back down me and laughs, sharp and ugly.

"You're the top surgeon in this city? Wow. I have learned something new tonight."

"So the famous underground surgeon is just another vulture, squeezing a mother for cash."

She closes the gap and yanks another check from her clutch.

"Not enough? Fine. Pick a number. A hundred grand. Half a million. A million. Anything. Just save my daughter."

A couple of low whistles slip down the hall.

I don't move. I'm looking at the small gold crest pinned over her heart.

Ten years.

The medal she got for killing my daughter is still sitting on her chest like a damn trophy.

She catches me staring. Her mouth twists into something almost smug.

"What. You recognize it?"

"That's the Famiglia's Cross. The Commission doesn't pin that on just anyone."

She lifts her chin. Her balance comes back the second she remembers what she is.

"Ten years ago. The Northside raid. I was on my feet for sixteen hours. I pulled half a dozen of our kids back from the dead with my bare hands."

"I'm not like you, Doc."

"When I save people, I don't hold their lives hostage for a check."

She wipes her tears off so cleanly you'd think she practiced.

I look at her. And I smile.

"Did they all live?"

Her face freezes for half a second.

"Nobody's perfect on a battlefield. You can't promise every one of them walks out."

"So. They didn't."

The hallway goes quiet.

Sienna's jaw sets.

I lift my eyes to hers and say it slow, one word at a time.

"You're right. We're not the same."

"I don't pick up a blade unless I know I can finish."

"And I don't make a mother stand outside a door thinking her kid has a chance, just to hand her back a corpse."

Sienna grabs my collar in both fists.

"You don't get to judge me. At least I had the guts to step up to a table. You won't even walk through the door!"

The whispers around us catch fire.

"She's not wrong. Sienna's a war hero."

"Doc, this isn't the moment to play queen bitch."

"That kid's bleeding out. Just go in already."

The looks pin me from every angle. Cold. Disgusted.

I don't bother explaining.

Then the monitor inside the OR shrieks.

A nurse comes flying out, white as the sheet in her hands.

"Pressure's tanking again! We are out of time!"

Sienna's color drains.

Every ounce of attitude she had two seconds ago is gone. She grabs my wrist.

"Please."

"Whatever you want. Anything. Just walk into that room."

I look down at her hand on mine.

Ten years ago, I begged Dominic Vance like that. The man who looked me in the eye and swore he'd bring our Gianna back. The man who handed her body to this woman instead.

Something I've been swallowing for a decade rises up my throat and comes out as a quiet laugh.

"Anything?"

She nods so hard her hair falls into her face.

"Anything. Whatever it takes."

I pull my hand back.

"Fine. I'll walk into the OR with you."

Her eyes light up like she just got pardoned.

"Thank you. Thank you. Doc — me and her father, we'll never forget this."

I haven't opened my mouth when boots pound down the hallway.

"Sienna!"

That voice hits me and my fingers go still.

Dominic Vance shoves through the crowd, white shirt rolled to the elbows, jaw locked tight. I've never seen him this rattled.

He catches Sienna by the shoulders.

"How's Sofia?"

She breaks. Tears spill the second he touches her.

"Dom. They said if we wait any longer she's gone."

His head snaps up to me.

I'm in a mask and a low cap. Just my eyes showing.

He takes one look and the old command snaps back into his voice.

"You. You're the surgeon?"

I don't answer.

He pulls the check from Sienna's hand and slaps it on the cart beside me.

"Money's not the issue. Save my daughter. Anything you want."

I look at him.

Ten years and the man still thinks every problem on earth gets fixed with a stack of cash.

Sienna grabs his arm. "She already said yes. She's going in."

His shoulders ease a fraction. He turns to Marcus. "Then move. Put her on the table."

I finally speak.

"Don Vance."

He pauses. The title catches him somewhere familiar, but he can't place it yet.

I look at him through the mask. My voice is flat.

"Don't get it twisted."

"I said I'd walk in. I never said I'd hold the knife."