Chapter 2 - The Lion in the Kitchen
The paramedics arrived forty seconds later, accompanied by two Seattle police cruisers with lights flashing red and blue across my living room walls.
Julian, Griffin's chief lieutenant, handled the police with a smooth, terrifying efficiency that only ten million dollars in legal retainers could buy. Within three minutes, the officers were convinced that the intruder in my yard was a "disgruntled former employee" of my architecture firm, and the black SUV embedded in my garden was part of a "private security response team."
I was placed on a gurney, an IV line inserted into the back of my hand, an oxygen mask strapped over my nose and mouth.
"Severe hypertensive crisis triggered by an acute stress event," the paramedic said as he wheeled me toward the front door. "Her blood pressure is two-ten over one-twenty. We need to transport her to Swedish Medical Center immediately."
I reached out, my fingers curling around the edge of the gurney, looking frantically for my daughters.
Hazel and Iris were sitting on the island stools in my kitchen. They were wrapped in heavy woolen blankets that smelled faintly of expensive cologne and gun oil—cloaks provided by Griffin's men.
Griffin stood between the stools, his massive frame completely dominating the bright, yellow-tiled kitchen I had spent three years remodeling. He was crouching down, bringing his massive six-foot-three frame down to eye level with my daughters.
In his hand, he held two juice boxes he had pulled from my refrigerator.
"Here," Griffin said, his voice dropping into a gentle, low rumble I had never heard him use in the eighteen months we had lived together eight years ago. "Drink this. It helps with the shock."
Hazel took the juice box, staring at him with unblinking scrutiny. "You're the man from the phone."
"I am," Griffin said.
"Are you a policeman?" Iris asked, her voice small beneath her blanket.
Griffin’s lips twitched into a faint, sad smile that didn't reach his eyes. "No, sweetheart. I'm something much worse."
"Griffin..." I managed to speak through the plastic oxygen mask as the paramedics pushed me past the kitchen doorway.
Griffin stood up in a single, fluid motion. He walked over to the gurney, his heavy leather shoes clicking against the tile floor. He looked down at me, his expression unreadable, his green eyes burning with a mixture of raw, furious passion and deep, festering betrayal.
"You lied to me, Sloan," he whispered, leaning down until his lips were inches from my ear. "You told me you were going to Chicago for a firm partnership. You told me you didn't want a life with me."
"I... I had to..." I sobbed, tears spilling over the edges of my mask. "Your life... the blood..."
"And instead, you brought them here," Griffin said, glancing back at the twins. "Where my enemies found them before I even knew they existed."
He reached out, his long, gloved fingers gently touching my temple, brushing a bloody strand of dark hair away from my face. The contrast between his lethal reputation and the absolute softness of his touch made my heart hammer against my ribs.
"Go to the hospital," Griffin commanded quietly. "Get your head scanned. Let the doctors fix you."
"My girls..." I panicked, trying to sit up against the gurney straps. "Don't take them! Griffin, please!"
"I am not taking them anywhere without you," Griffin said, his voice an unyielding iron shield. "My men will secure this hospital floor. Nobody enters your room without my seal. And when you wake up tomorrow morning, Sloan... we are going to have a conversation about the last eight years."
He looked at Julian, who stood by the front door holding the black silver-crested envelope inside a clear plastic evidence bag.
"Who sent the raven?" Griffin asked his lieutenant.
Julian’s face was grim. "Dominic Valenti. He cleared customs at Sea-Tac airport four hours ago. He brought sixteen men from Chicago."
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Griffin turned back to me, his eyes narrowing into cold slits of pure, lethal intent.
"Dominic thinks he can use my family as leverage to break my hold on the Port of Seattle," Griffin said softly. "He has no idea what he just woke up."
