"I insulted Chicago's paralyzed mob boss on day one—unaware the man who bombed him just named me."

The sixth-floor administrative wing was quiet, dark, and empty, save for the hum of the central ventilation system.

I walked down the carpeted corridor wearing my blue scrubs, my heavy tote bag slung over my shoulder, my heart hammering against my ribs with every step. Concealed beneath my scrub jacket was a small, encrypted audio relay connected directly to Marco’s surveillance unit parked in the alleyway below.

Parked two blocks away were four black armored Maybachs containing Desmond, Frankie, and twelve elite Gallagher operators.

I pushed open the door to the Chief of Medicine’s private office.

Dr. Arthur Vance sat behind his mahogany desk, wearing his pristine white lab coat, a half-empty glass of scotch resting near his hand. He looked tired, his silver hair disheveled, his eyes bloodshot with frantic, controlled panic.

"Clara," Arthur spoke, standing up immediately as I walked inside. "Thank God you're here. Did anyone follow you from the Gallagher estate?"

"No, Uncle Arthur," I answered, keeping my voice flat and steady as I stopped three feet from his desk. "I took a taxi from the main road."

Arthur walked around the desk, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out to grab my shoulders. "Listen to me carefully, Clara. You need to pack your things tonight. I've booked you on a seven o'clock flight to London. The Gallagher family... they are dangerous people. Desmond Gallagher is a monster."

I looked straight into his eyes, zero fear left in my chest.

"Desmond Gallagher isn't the monster in this city, Uncle Arthur," I said cleanly. "He didn't plant a bomb under a car. He didn't use a healthcare agency to launder drug money. And he didn't send his own niece into a crime lord's house as an unwitting spy."

Arthur froze. The warm, fatherly concern on his face withered away in half a second, replaced by a cold, desperate, toxic glare.

"You've grown very bold in two weeks, Clara," Arthur sneered, stepping back toward his desk drawer. "I gave you a future. I paid your bills. And you choose to side with a crippled mobster who can't even stand on his own two feet?"