Chapter Two: The House With Locked Doors
Elena opened the door with a scalpel hidden behind her wrist.
A tall blond man stood outside.
“Luka,” he said.
“I didn’t ask.”
“Mr. Volkov needs you.”
“Tell him to find one of his criminals with a medical degree.”
“He was poisoned.”
Her hand tightened around the scalpel.
That should not have mattered.
It did.
“Hospital.”
“He refuses.”
“Then he can die stubborn.”
Luka’s face did not change.
“He asked for you before he collapsed.”
The silence after that was worse than a threat.
Elena packed medical supplies, not clothes.
Sutures. Portable ultrasound. Antibiotics. Fluids. Emergency airway kit. Two scalpels.
One went into her boot.
Luka saw.
He said nothing.
The Volkov estate sat on the lakeshore behind iron gates and stone walls. It looked less like a mansion than a warning.
Inside, a woman in black waited.
Silver hair. Severe mouth. Eyes that had buried secrets and kept walking.
“Irina,” she said.
“Elena.”
“I know who you are.”
Elena stopped.
Irina looked at her calmly.
“I know every woman who ever made Damian Volkov reckless.”
The west wing smelled of antiseptic and old money.
Damian lay in a private medical suite, fevered and gray. The bandage over his wound was clean, but his pulse jumped wildly on the monitor.
Elena worked fast.
Pupils.
Skin.
Breathing.
Then she saw it.
A small injection mark near the edge of the bandage.
Not hers.
Not hospital-made.
Her voice went cold.
“Someone inside this house tried to kill him.”
Luka’s hand moved to his gun.
Irina went pale.
Damian’s eyes opened halfway.
“Elena.”
“Do not talk.”
His fingers caught her wrist.
Weak.
Too weak.
“That is why I brought you.”
She looked down at his hand.
Seven years ago, that hand had let hers go in the rain.
Now it could barely hold on.
“I’ll stabilize you,” she said.
“Then I’m leaving.”
His eyes sharpened through the fever.
“No locked doors,” she added.
“No guards inside when I treat you.”
A breath.
“Done.”
“And you do not touch my hospital, my license, or my life again.”
His gaze dropped.
Shame passed over his face so quickly most people would have missed it.
Elena did not.
“Done.”
She stayed because he was dying.
Not because she cared.
That was the first lie she told herself in Volkov House.
