10. Protective Fury #2
Nash didn't have to wait long. A man in his position rarely did.
Within five minutes, he had a team of guards in place to protect Iris and he was heading across town.
Unsure if he'd kill Sarah himself once she told him everything she knew.
He made good time crossing town, and before long, he was stepping out of the car in front of the hospital doors. He walked in, anger clear in his steps.
Nash charged through the sterile corridors of the hospital, his tall, muscular frame a stark contrast to the somber stillness in the air.
He had ensured that Sarah was admitted to this facility—a nondescript building across town, miles from where Iris lay vulnerable.
His bright blue eyes blazed with an untamed ferocity as he navigated the deserted halls.
Why was it so empty?
The lack of sound was disconcerting. The silence hung heavy like a shroud.
It seemed as though the walls themselves held their breath, anticipating something.
Nash wasn't sure what was going on, but he knew something was off.
His hand dropped to rest near the concealed gun at his waist. He approached the nurse's station, his large strides and sheer presence commanded immediate attention.
The nurse on duty straightened up as she watched him approach.
"Sarah Roberts' room," he demanded tersely, giving no time for her to issue him some banal greet him. Darkness hung over him like a cloud, and it was clear in his tone. His voice dripped with a commanding edge that brooked no argument.
The nurse, uncomfortable by his aggressive demeanor, nodded nervously and led him down another sterile, white passageway. He suppressed a shiver.
Fuck, he hated hospitals.
They arrived at a door. It was utterly unremarkable. But something about it set him on edge. And when the door was opened, he knew why.
Nash looked in at the carnage in the room with gritted teeth.
The image seemed to be meticulously staged for maximum impact.
Sarah laid motionless on the hospital bed, dead.
Still wrapped around her neck her was a thin, garrote-like wire her killer must have left there.
The metal wire had specks of blood on it, and it glinted coldly under the harsh fluorescent lights.
Rage engulfed Nash, a visceral tide that threatened to sweep away his composure. The brutality of the act, the placement of the body, all of it was a clear message. Someone was covering their tracks. Tying up loose ends.
They were mocking him.
He strode over to Sarah's body, fists clenched at his sides, each muscle in his formidable physique tensed with fury.
He placed a hand on her wrist and felt the warmth of her skin.
They must have just missed the killer. A hunger for vengeance threatened to consume him, a dark fire that scorched his reason and sharpened his focus.
Whoever was behind this all had no idea who they were dealing with. They just declared war on him.
And he was willing to bet they had no idea who he truly was. So few did. They were about to find out what happens when they poke the beast.
As the nurse gasped in horror at the sight before her, rushing to alert the rest of the staff, Nash remained stoic.
The storm of emotions brewing inside him hidden behind an implacable mask.
Yet beneath the surface, his mind raced, piecing together the puzzle with lethal precision. Who could have done this?
There were no enemies that matched this pattern. It seemed there was a new player on the field. But who? Nothing lined up. There was something he was missing.
The empty halls now made sense. But the amount of coordination this would require, the power and connections needed... Whoever wanted Iris dead, was a bigger player than Nash first thought. But they were nothing compared to him.
He was going to hunt them down.
He was going to find them.
He was going to tear them into pieces with his bare fucking hands.
In that hospital room, at that moment, Nash let the beast out of its cage for the second time in his life. The first time was when she disappeared three years ago.
Back then, he shook the foundation of the elite. He killed everyone who stood in his way. He vowed then that he would do it again.
He was going to tear this city apart, dismantle every institution that dared stand in his way.
He had done it once before, and now he was the leader of them all. A thought struck him then and his blood went ice cold.
Iris.
He left her alone in the hospital.
Vulnerable.
Nash's hand trembled with barely restrained fury as he fished his phone from the depths of his coat pocket. He walked quickly down the halls as he left Sarah's body behind him. He felt no remorse for her.
She'd made her bed. And she'd died in it.
The sterile light of the hospital corridor seemed to flicker with the rhythm of his pounding feet. She had to be alright. He dialed Carson's number with deliberate, forceful taps, each one echoing the urgency that was riding him.
"Carson," his gravelly voice came over the line.
"Tell me she's safe." Nash's voice was a low growl. A mere hint of the storm brewing within.
"Mr. Nash," came the steady reply, "Ms Blackworth is fine. Daisy is with her, and she’s sleeping peacefully. I am stationed inside the room with her, and I have six men in the hallway and throughout the hospital." His words should have comforted him, but they had the opposite effect.
"Triple them," he growled. "Six men, plus you are easy pickings with a large enough force." There was a pause before Carson responded.
"Yes, sir." His words were emotionless, but Nash could tell he was offended by his assessment of his security detail. Nash didn't give a fuck that his feelings were hurt. He had a job to do. "I'll handle it. I have secondary teams surrounding the hospital. I'll pull them in."
"Good." He growled. His iron-clad composure returned in increments as he issued his command, each word sharp as a shard of glass. "Stay in the room with her until I return. Let no one in her door. Not even the fucking doctors. Especially not the nurses."
"Understood, sir." The line went dead.
He moved through the dimly lit hallways with purpose. Anger radiated off him, and it took all his willpower to not succumb to its siren's call. To reign in the beast and keep the fury at bay. But he needed to keep focused. Falling into a rage wouldn't protect Iris.
Last time he could give in. Last time she was missing, and there was no one to rein in his beast for. This time, he had her to think about.
Once outside, the chill of the night air cut through the haze of his wrath, offering a momentary reprieve. His driver immediately pulled up in front of him.
Nash opened the car door, the anger etched into the hard lines of his face cast a sinister look to his visage. As the car pulled away from the curb, he dialed another number, this time for Nightstalker. For this next task, he needed the best.
The phone picked up before even one full ring. "Nightstalker."
"Sarah Roberts is dead. Strangled with a wire. Her body was still warm, and no rigor mortis—the killer must have been there less than thirty minutes before us." His voice hissed, laced with venom,
There was silence on the other end of the line. But Nash didn't need him to respond. He needed him to do what he did best. Find answers.
"Find the leak," Nash ordered, his words slicing through the night. "Root them out. I want names, faces.”
"Consider it done," was the terse reply before the line went dead once more.
The city lights blurred past as Nash's thoughts swirled dark and dangerous.
Leaning back in the leather seat, Nash closed his eyes.
Images of Iris, tall and elegant, with her creamy skin and smile that could light up a room, filled his mind.
She was the light to his darkness, and he would lay waste to anyone who thought they could threaten her.
With that in mind, he tapped his phone open and began to plan. By the time his driver pulled up in front of Iris's hospital, he had his people moving. Contingency plans in place for every eventuality.
The car door slammed shut, the sound cutting through the night as he stepped into the chilled air.
He stood for a moment, his breath forming ghostly wisps before dissipating into the darkness, his eyes lifting to scrutinize the hospital.
It loomed like a fortress meant to offer sanctuary, yet to Nash, it was a nightmare.
He quickly cataloged numerous vulnerabilities—too many windows, glass doors, lax security guards.
His gaze swept over the building methodically.
The list of entry points only seemed to grow.
Emergency exits too accessible, windows left open, shadows where broken lights hadn't been replaced yet—every potential breach intensified the smoldering anger within him.
The hospital was indefensible. He could have one hundred men stationed there are she would still be vulnerable.
Nash began to pace, his footsteps silent but fierce on the pavement.
The hospital's floodlights cast long, stark shadows that danced around him, mirroring his dark thoughts.
She wasn't safe here. There was only one thing he could do.
Take Iris away from this place, set her up some place he could secure.
"Somewhere safe," he muttered to himself. His mind racing as he decided where to put her, that she would be the safest.
Iris
Iris’s gaze locked onto the distorted reflections in the SUV’s thick glass, her eyes tracing all the ominous vehicles that surfaced from seemingly nowhere. A procession of black SUVs flanked their own, forming a formidable blockade between them and any threat that might pop up.
"Tell me what's happening, Nash," Iris implored, her voice barely rising above a whisper, strained with the effort to remain composed. But Nash, ever the enigma, offered nothing but the implacable facade that had become his trademark of late.