BURIED WITH A HEARTBEAT

Rain hammered the reinforced glass of the black SUV as it tore through the neon-slicked streets of Chicago. In the backseat, Gabriel wrapped his woolen overcoat around Clara’s shivering frame, his large, scarred hands rubbing her stiff arms.

Bruno lay on the floorboards, resting his massive head directly over Clara’s chest, his ears twitching at every shallow inhalation.

“Keep her warm, Gabriel! Her core temperature is bottoming out!”

On the speakerphone was Dr. Evelyn Vance, a battlefield surgeon who had stitched Gabriel up during his early days in the city’s underground. She was the only person alive outside the syndicate he trusted with his life.

“Her pulse is erratic, Evelyn. Maybe eight to ten beats a minute,” Gabriel said, fighting the tremor in his voice. “Her skin feels waxy, like marble.”

“It’s Tetrodotoxin or a synthetic neuro-inhibitor,” Evelyn answered urgently. “It induces a catatonic state so deep that conventional monitors register brain death and cardiac flatline. Someone didn't just want her dead—they wanted you to bury your own daughter alive.”

Gabriel closed his eyes. The sheer cruelty of the plot tore through his chest like shrapnel. For years, he believed his power protected his family. He had built an empire of concrete and fear, convinced that nobody would dare touch Clara.

Now, looking down at her blue-tinted lips, he realized his empire had only painted a target on her forehead.