Chapter 3 - Poison in the Syringe
The name Matteo Rossi sent a wave of icy cold through Elena’s veins.
Even if she hadn't paid attention to the city's crime beat, everyone in Chicago knew the Rossi family. They owned half the shipping docks on the river, three-quarters of the high-rise developments downtown, and possessed a reputation for cold, uncompromising violence. Matteo Rossi was the undisputed Don of the family—a man who had ruled the city's underbelly with an iron hand until six months ago, when news broke that he had suffered a catastrophic "car accident."
"An accident," Elena breathed, processing the truth. "It wasn't an accident, was it?"
"A paralytic drug," Matteo said, his voice growing stronger with every sentence as his body remembered how to function. "Mixed into my whiskey by someone I trusted. My cousin, Dante. He didn't want to kill me outright; he needed time to secure the family's assets before my death. So he put me here, in a state where I could hear everything, feel everything, but couldn't move a single finger."
He turned his head slightly, his gray eyes locking onto hers with burning intensity. "For six months, I laid in this bed. I listened to Dante’s men plan my funeral. I listened to corrupt doctors discuss how to slowly poison my IV lines. And every night, at two in the morning, I listened to a nurse tell me about her father’s bakery, cinnamon rolls, and the rain."
Elena felt her face go hot. "You heard all of that?"
"Every word," Matteo said gently. "Your voice was the only thing that kept me sane in the dark, Elena. It was the anchor that brought my mind back when my body wanted to give up."
Before Elena could process the weight of his confession, the heavy oak door unlocked once more.
A tall man in a white lab coat stepped into the room. It was Dr. Vance—the senior neurologist who had taken over Room 417 three days ago. He didn't look at Elena. He walked straight to the IV stand, pulling a pre-filled syringe from his pocket.
Elena’s medical training kicked in immediately. "Dr. Vance? What is that medication? There’s no new order on Mr. Rossi’s chart."
Vance didn't pause. "It’s a concentrated sedative to stabilize his autonomic responses, nurse. Step aside."
Elena looked at the syringe. The liquid inside was crystal clear, but the doctor's hands were trembling slightly. She looked at the monitor—Matteo's heart rate was climbing, a silent warning. Vance was going to administer the final dose. Dante had ordered the plug pulled tonight.
"Show me the chart order first," Elena said, stepping between the doctor and the IV port.
"Out of my way, Rios!" Vance snapped, his voice tight with panic. "I am the attending physician!"
"And I am the primary nurse on this floor!" Elena stood her ground, her heart thrashing against her ribs. "If you put an unverified substance into this line, I will pull the emergency cord right now!"
Vance’s face twisted in rage. He raised his hand to shove Elena out of the way. "You stupid girl—"
He never finished the sentence.
From the bed, a massive, scarred hand shot upward like a striking viper. Matteo’s fingers clamped around Dr. Vance’s wrist with a crushing force that made the bones crack.
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Vance gasped in sheer horror, dropping the syringe onto the floor. He stared down into the wide, awake eyes of the man he had believed to be a helpless corpse.
"Hello, Vance," Matteo growled, his voice sending a chill through the air. "I believe my nurse asked you a question."
