Aiden Knight's POV
The elevator carried us to the third floor, but when the doors opened, the hallway ahead wasn't the sterile quiet of a typical hospital wing. Instead, I heard voices. Loud, arrogant voices coming from the direction of room 314.
My blood turned cold.
"Stay behind me," I told Chloe as we moved down the corridor.
The voices grew clearer as we approached. A young man's voice, dripping with entitlement and cruelty.
"Breaking one hand wasn't enough. You made me look like a fool in front of my girlfriend. Now I'm going to make sure you never forget your place."
I reached the doorway and saw a scene that ignited every violent instinct I'd spent five years honing.
William Young lay on a hospital bed, his left hand wrapped in bandages. His face was swollen and bruised. His father, a thin man in work clothes, stood protectively beside the bed while his mother clutched William's uninjured hand.
