A Deadly Prediction

Elara came to a sudden, jarring halt. She turned her entire attention toward the dignified older man sitting quietly at a corner table with the young twins.

Marcus barely caught his breath after Elara subdued Linda. He tracked her line of sight across the ruined, syrup-stained café, and his heart skipped a beat. A sharp jolt of pure shock traveled straight down his spine.

He recognized the older man instantly. It was Victor Quinn. The man was a notorious, dangerous figure within the city, commanding a deeply ingrained authority that meant no one ever dared to cross his path lightly. He was not a man offering second chances.

"Your grandson is dying." Elara delivered the horrifying words flatly, her voice carrying no trace of emotion.

The blunt statement hit Marcus like a physical blow to the center of his chest. The air rushed out of his lungs. He lost the ability to form a coherent thought, standing frozen as the echo of her casual death sentence hung in the heavy air.

Victor's posture turned rigid. The ambient noise of the hospital café seemed to fade away as his sharp eyes locked onto Elara.

"What did you just say?" Victor demanded. His voice dropped to a dangerous pitch, laced with a lethal, unspoken threat. He stared her down with an intensity meant to crush the spirit of whoever stood before him.

"Your granddaughter will eventually recover. It is your grandson who is in true, immediate trouble." Elara offered the grim prognosis in a soft, steady rhythm, undeterred by the dark murder swimming in the older man's gaze.

Marcus finally found his voice. "Ms. Vance!"

He refused to let her utter another reckless syllable. Moving with a burst of frantic adrenaline, Marcus closed the distance, grabbed her by the arm, and physically dragged her toward the café door. He practically hauled her onto the medical campus walkway to avoid the catastrophic fallout of insulting a man like Victor Quinn.

Victor remained at his table. He ignored the healthy, flushed cheeks of his young grandson sitting across from him. He watched Elara's hasty retreat through the glass windows, his jaw clenched tight. He was furious at the young woman's sheer audacity to curse his family. Yet, despite his anger, her confident, emotionless delivery planted a nagging, icy unease deep into his gut.

A towering figure separated himself from the shadows near the back counter. Henry, a bodyguard packing enough muscle to break a man in half, stepped up to the table. He tracked Marcus and Elara until they vanished around the corner.

"Dig up everything you can find on that girl." Victor issued the quiet order, his unblinking stare still locked on the empty street.

"Right away, sir." Henry nodded, his steady gaze calculating the job ahead.

Far away from the café, Marcus pushed his way into the main hospital building. He only released his iron grip on her arm when they finally reached the metal doors of the hospital elevators.

His usually stoic composure shattered. The unflappable assistant of the Blackwood family ran a frantic hand through his hair, his chest heaving with aggressive panic.

"Do you have the slightest idea who that man was?" Marcus snapped fiercely at Elara. He stared down at her, baffled by her suicidal decision to march up to a city overlord and casually announce his bloodline was ending.

Elara kept one hand resting nonchalantly inside her pocket. She leaned her weight onto one leg, entirely indifferent to the panic pouring off him in waves.

"That boy is going to be in severe trouble. The medical crisis could start as soon as tonight, or by tomorrow at the very latest." Elara stood by her medical prediction, her voice devoid of urgency, stating the timeline like she was reciting a grocery list.

Marcus stared at her, opening his mouth to yell again, but a loud chime echoed above them.

The metal elevator doors slid open. Elara stepped into the carriage, leaving Marcus with no choice but to follow her into the confined space, praying her reckless mouth would not seal their coffins.

The elevator ride ticked by in tense silence until they reached their designated floor. The doors parted.

"Help! Please, someone help me! I am going to fall!"

A blood-curdling scream of blind panic met them in the corridor. A fierce gust of wind swept into the sterile hallway, thrashing against the beige tiled walls.

Down the hall, a massive glass window stood cranked wide open. Toby had Lauren physically pinned against the metal frame, dangling her upper half dangerously far out into the open, wind-whipped drop. Her feet scrambled against the plaster inside the building, but her center of gravity was hanging over empty space. Tears of pure terror streamed down Lauren's pale face as she shrieked for her life, twisting frantically against Toby's solid grip.

Julian sat silently in his heavy wheelchair just a few feet away from the open window. His posture was perfectly rigid. Dark circles framed his eyes, adding to the cold depth of his gaze. Every line of his face exuded a ruthless aura, showing not a single shred of hesitation or mercy as he watched his aunt dangle over the edge.

Mateo stood nearby, leaning heavily on his carved wooden cane. His gnarled hands trembled violently against the grip. He watched his daughter scream, too afraid of Julian to physically intervene.

"Julian, please. Today was merely an accident. Lauren did not mean any harm to Beatrice." Mateo stammered, his voice cracking under the suffocating tension. He threw a quick, desperate glance toward his enraged grandson, begging for clemency.

Richard stood against the wall, wincing at the loud shrieks echoing from his sister. He kept his eyes on the floor, mumbling quietly under his breath. "Beatrice is fine now anyway."

The second those words left Richard's mouth, the hallway fell into a deathly stillness. The wailing screams from Lauren seemed to fade into background static. The air grew thick, pressing down on everyone's lungs.

Julian slowly turned his head to look at his uncle.

"Say that again." Julian let the command slip out in a quiet, whisper-thin voice that carried far more terrifying weight than any enraged shout ever could.

Richard froze, swallowing hard, unable to meet the murderous glare.

Elara ignored the suffocating tension. She walked straight past the terrified, trembling family members and marched directly to the wheelchair.

She extended a cheap, poorly insulated paper cup toward Julian.

"I bought you a coffee." Elara announced the mundane offering over the sound of wind and sobbing.

Marcus rushed out of the elevator behind her. His eyes widened as she shoved a cup of dark roast at a man whose heart was actively failing.

"Ms. Vance, he cannot drink—" Marcus started his frantic protest.

Julian silenced Marcus instantly. A single, sharp glare from those dark eyes froze the assistant mid-sentence. Marcus clamped his jaw shut immediately.

Julian turned his attention back to Elara. Slowly, he reached his arm out. His long fingers closed over the white paper. His hand was unexpectedly large, easily engulfing her delicate fingers for a brief second. His skin felt like sheer ice, mimicking the bone-chilling touch of the giant white python he kept locked away in his room.

"Julian! I am your aunt! You cannot do this!" Lauren dragged in a breath and screamed loudly again. "Dad! Save me!"

The unstoppable tears of terror ruined her makeup, streaking black down her cheeks as she shrieked.

Elara grimaced. The grating, high-pitched noise pierced straight through her eardrums. It irritated her beyond belief, echoing relentlessly in the narrow corridor. First Linda, now Lauren. The entire family sounded exactly the same when they panicked.

Elara casually lifted a finger and poked Julian's arm.

"Get someone to pull her back inside." Elara told him, rubbing her abused ear.

Julian's dark expression turned stormy in a fraction of a second. His jaw tightened. He wrongly assumed the young woman standing over him was feeling a sudden, pathetic pang of sympathy for the very enemy who triggered his grandmother's collapse.

Despite his growing irritation at her perceived weakness, he yielded.

"Toby." Julian gave a single nod, keeping his tone dangerously cold.

Toby yanked backward with brute force. He dragged the shivering, sobbing Lauren straight through the window frame, dumping her onto the solid hospital floor.

Even though she was safe on solid ground, the trauma kept her mind reeling. Lauren curled her arms over her head, her hysterical screaming continuing to bounce off the walls without a pause.

Elara cracked her neck. She stepped away from the wheelchair, closing the distance to the wailing woman with measured, deliberate steps.

She stood right over the hysterical woman.

Two distinct, violent cracks snapped through the tense air in rapid succession.

Elara slapped her across the cheek, pulled her hand back, and slapped her again.

The heavy, stinging blows knocked the air right out of Lauren's lungs. The screaming stopped instantly. The hallway plunged back into total, shocked silence. Everyone stared at Elara with wide eyes.

Elara lifted her hands, casually brushing her palms together in a clear gesture of dismissal.

"It was just an accident. I didn't mean to." Elara flatly mimicked Mateo's earlier desperate excuse, twisting the family's exact logic against them.

She looked up and flashed the stunned Mateo a cool, blatantly defiant smile. Her relaxed expression served as an open, unmistakable challenge daring him to question her actions.

Richard's shock morphed into furious indignance. He pointed an accusatory finger dead at her chest.

"You are unbelievable." Richard spat the word, glaring at her with barely contained rage.

Elara ignored the finger. With a seamless step backward, she retreated right behind the impenetrable, menacing shield of Julian's wheelchair. Nobody would ever dare step over him to attack her.

"Lauren is fine now, isn't she?" Elara echoed Richard's own dismissive defense, locking eyes with him over the back of the heavy chair.

She leaned down, hovering just over Julian's shoulder.

"It is certainly much more peaceful now, Mr. Blackwood." Elara crafted her voice into a slow, lazy drawl, perfectly designed to poke the bleeding patience of the remaining family members.

Julian sat still beneath her mocking shadow. The deeply menacing glint in his dark eyes softened just a touch at her fearless audacity. He lifted the cheap, paper cup to his mouth. He took a slow sip. The poorly made coffee tasted bitter, cold, and harsh, but somehow, the terrible flavor lifted his dark spirits for a moment.