Page 58 of Thunder

Lia's face pales, her fingers tremble as they touch my wounds.

"Wait here," she says, rushing to the bathroom. Moments later, she's back with a first aid kit, carefully cleaning and bandaging my injuries.

There’s a tenderness to her touch, a depth of care that speaks volumes.

“Answers about what?” She says, eyes down, focused on securing a bandage.

“About who tried to kill Eileen. We went through the security footage from that night, thanks to a contact Eliza has in the hospital’s IT department, and we were able to get an image of the guy I think may have slipped her the poison. I was asking around, trying to see if anyone knew him, when I ran into some guy who didn’t like my questions.”

“Did you kill him?” She says, quietly.

I grunt. “Yes.”

“This is bad.”

“If you’re worried about the police, don’t,” I say. It’s her first time being party to a murder, probably, so her concern is only natural. “With the people this guy is connected to, it’ll probably all be swept under the rug. These guys are some serious players. It’s going to take more than a dead body or two to take them down.”

“Thank you for that information, but that actually wasn’t as reassuring as you probably hoped it would be.” In between ministrations, our eyes meet. A myriad of emotions pass in fleeting glances; concern, fear, love. My hand reaches up to cup her face, feeling the warmth of her skin. Her eyes drift away from mine, to the floor, and she frowns.

"Lia," I whisper, "there's something you're not telling me."

She hesitates, lips parting, but no words come out.

Instead, she shakes her head, her eyes glistening.

"I need to focus on taking care of you right now," she murmurs.

Each bandage gets applied, checked, and double-checked with the exacting precision of someone who both cares for me, and cares about avoiding questions. I let her have her silence, because I don’t have the energy to interrogate her.

Still, it’s when she’s quadruple-checked the final bandage and almost seems distraught that there are no more injuries requiring treatment that I decide I have to do something. I pull her close, wrapping my arms around her.

For a moment, we simply hold each other, seeking and offering comfort in equal measure.

“It’s going to be okay. I know today’s been scary, but we’ll make it through. I love you, Lia, and I don’t let the people I love get hurt.”

“It’s not that, Marcus, it’s…”

“What?”

Breaking our embrace, she looks at me, a war as fierce as my recent bar fight going on inside her stunning blues. "After everything I’ve seen today, I have an idea about who did it. Show me the photograph."

I pass it to her, watching as her eyes widen in recognition. She gasps, and the photograph falls from her hands.

"Yes. It’s him. I know him."

Chapter Twenty-Five

Amelia

My pulse races erratically as I study the image. It's Antonio Mancini, head of security at my office. Fear and recognition wash over me like a tidal wave. That face—it's everything I dread, a connection to an underworld that I'm only just beginning to understand. A visage like my personal Grim Reaper.

"Marcus..." My voice trembles along with my hands as I hold the photograph, feeling as though it could detonate any second. The photo slips from my grasp, floating to the floor as quietly as a feather but landing with the force of a hand grenade. Memories of men at the office flash before me—their sinister atmosphere, the bulge in suits that looked suspiciously like guns. A shiver runs down my spine, thinking about how deep and dangerous this might be.

Summoning courage, I lock eyes with Marcus.

"His name is Antonio Mancini. He’s the head of security at my work. I've been in the same room with him, Marcus. He's had meetings with my boss, Mr. Russell." The widening of Marcus's eyes tells me that a piece of the puzzle has clicked into place, even if the entire picture remains unsettling.

"You’re certain about this?" he asks.

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