Chapter 3 - The Sanctuary in ManhattanBy 8:00 AM the following morning, a sleek midnight-black Maybach glided through the rain-slicked streets of Manhattan, pulling up to the private rear entrance of St. Jude’s Pediatric Oncology Center.
The dark, predatory shadow that usually accompanied Kieran Blackwood's public appearance had been stripped away, replaced by an impenetrable wall of iron protection around me.
Surrounding the medical facility were eight broad-shouldered Blackwood security operators clad in dark suits, their sharp eyes scanning the street for any sign of rival syndicate surveillance.
Kieran carried me out of the Maybach, his dark wool coat wrapped over my shoulders to shield me from the chilly morning air.
Inside the top-floor VIP pediatric suite—a magnificent three-room facility overflowing with bright sunlight, blooming white orchids, brand-new toys, and state-of-the-art medical monitoring equipment—sat my six-year-old brother, Mateo.
Mateo wore clean blue pajamas, his pale cheeks slightly flushed with healthy color, holding a brand-new remote-controlled helicopter in his small hands.
Standing beside his bed was Dr. Arthur Sterling—the renowned Chief of Pediatric Oncology whom Kieran had brought in via private helicopter from Boston three hours earlier.
"MIA!" Mateo squealed happily, dropping his helicopter, throwing his small arms wide as I sprinted across the room, dropping onto my knees beside his bed, pulling my sweet brother tightly into my chest.
"Mateo! Oh, my sweet boy!" I cried, burying my face in his soft hair, holding him as if I would never let him go again.
"Look, Mia!" Mateo babbled joyfully, pointing to the silver helicopter and the mountain of plush toys resting near the window. "The big man in the suit brought me all of these! He said I don't have to take the yucky old medicine anymore! He brought the magic juice!"
Dr. Sterling stepped forward, offering a warm, professional smile. "Miss Torres, your brother's new antibody protocol began at six A.M. His white blood cell count has already stabilized, and the prognosis for full remission within six months is over ninety percent."
Tears of pure, overwhelming joy spilled over my eyelashes. I looked up toward the doorway.
Standing near the threshold, his tall six-foot-three frame draped in an immaculate tailored charcoal suit, his broad arms folded over his chest, was Kieran. His severe, carved features held a depth of quiet, radiant peace as he watched Mateo play.
Mateo looked past me, his bright hazel eyes landing on Kieran.
"Are you the big man who bought the magic juice?" Mateo asked innocently.
Kieran dropped flat onto one knee right on the private suite floorboards, completely unbothered by his tailored trousers, holding out his broad, calloused hand toward my brother.
"I am, Mateo," Kieran answered softly, his deep baritone as gentle as velvet. "My name is Kieran."
Mateo took Kieran's hand with his tiny fingers, giving it a firm shake. "Are you Mia's boss?"
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Kieran raised his storm-gray eyes, locking his gaze onto mine with an absolute, unshakeable devotion that made my soul soar.
"I used to be her boss, buddy," Kieran promised gently. "Now... I'm her protector."
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