Chapter Nine: The Surgical Strike
That night, after Mikhail fell asleep, Lian found Kael in the stairwell.
The same stairwell where they met.
He was sitting on the steps, a gun disassembled on the floor beside him.
“You’re cleaning a weapon in my hospital.”
“It’s not a weapon. It’s insurance.”
“Against what?”
“Dante.”
Lian sat down on the step above him.
“What’s your plan?”
“Turn over the evidence to the feds. Let them arrest him.”
“And if he fights back?”
Kael looked up.
“Then I’ll do what I have to.”
“Promise me you won’t kill him.”
“I promise I’ll try.”
“That’s not good enough.”
Kael reassembled the gun.
“You’re asking me to trust the system. The same system that let Dante buy judges and bribe cops for ten years.”
“I’m asking you to be the man I thought you were.”
Kael was silent.
Then he put the gun away.
“Okay. No killing. But I can’t promise he won’t hurt someone else.”
“Then we make sure he can’t.”
“How?”
“You said you have evidence. Give it to me. I’ll deliver it. I’m a doctor. They won’t suspect me.”
Kael shook his head.
“It’s too dangerous.”
“Mikhail is my son. I’m not standing on the sidelines anymore.”
Kael looked at her for a long moment.
Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out a memory stick.
“Everything is on here. Transactions. Recordings. The name of the doctor he paid to falsify the death certificate.”
Lian took it.
“I’ll go tomorrow morning.”
“Lian. If something happens—”
“Nothing will happen. I’m not the woman you left five years ago.”
She stood up.
This time, she didn’t walk away immediately.
She looked back.
“Kael. Thank you for keeping him alive. Even if you did it the wrong way.”
Kael nodded.
She left.
