Chapter 3 - The Suit That Hid a Secret
Noah sat at Lyra’s kitchen table while she cleaned the cut along his ribs.
It was not a gunshot wound.
That was the first relief.
It was a knife wound, shallow but ugly, running across his side beneath his shirt.
“You should still go to a hospital,” Lyra said.
“I cannot.”
“Why?”
“Because hospitals ask questions.”
“So do I.”
Noah looked at her.
For once, there was no arrogance in his face.
Only exhaustion.
Lyra dabbed antiseptic against the cut.
He did not flinch.
“You’re lucky,” she said.
“No.”
“You are.”
“No,” Noah repeated. “Lucky men don’t get stabbed by people they once trusted.”
Her hands slowed.
“Who did this?”
“A man I used to call family.”
The answer lingered between them.
Lyra had known Noah as a name, a threat, a shadow cast over the west side of the city. But sitting across from him now, shirt half-open and blood staining his skin, she saw something different.
A man carrying too much violence.
A man who had no one safe enough to call.
“You should not have come here,” she said quietly.
“I know.”
“Then why did you?”
Noah’s dark eyes fixed on hers.
“Because you don’t look at me like I’m a king.”
“That is because you are sitting in my kitchen bleeding on a chair I found at a yard sale.”
A slow smile appeared.
It changed his whole face.
For one second, he looked younger.
Almost gentle.
Then the smile vanished.
“Tonight, someone tried to kill me because I refused to sign over territory.”
“Territory?”
“My family has businesses on the west side.”
“That is one word for it.”
Noah accepted the criticism without argument.
“My uncle believes I am becoming weak.”
“Are you?”
His eyes sharpened.
“No.”
“Then why does he think that?”
Noah looked toward the window.
“Because I have been changing things.”
Lyra waited.
“I shut down two gambling houses,” he said. “I stopped men from collecting debts through violence. I moved money into legal businesses. I thought it would be enough.”
“And your uncle?”
“He prefers the old ways.”
Lyra understood then.
Noah was not innocent.
He was part of a world built on fear.
But he was trying, in his own dangerous way, to make it less cruel.
“You can leave,” she said.
Noah’s gaze moved back to her.
“I will.”
“Good.”
“But first, I need to tell you something.”
Lyra crossed her arms.
“That sentence has never led to anything good.”
Noah almost smiled again.
“Daniel Cruz is being watched.”
Her stomach dropped.
“What?”
“My uncle’s men saw him at the shop.”
“Why would they care?”
“Because they assume anyone close to you is leverage against me.”
Lyra stared at him.
“You are saying Daniel is in danger because you asked whether I had a boyfriend?”
“I am saying he is in danger because men like my uncle see weakness everywhere.”
“You brought that danger to my door.”
“I know.”
The honesty in his voice made it worse.
Lyra stepped back.
“You need to leave.”
Noah stood slowly.
He was larger in the small kitchen than he had been in the tailor shop.
But he did not move toward her.
“I will have someone watch your building,” he said.
“No.”
“Lyra—”
“No men outside my home. No cars following me. No one watching Daniel. I do not belong to you.”
Noah’s face became still.
“I know you don’t.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
The answer was quiet.
Then he placed a card on the table.
A number.
No name.
“If anything happens,” he said, “call.”
Lyra wanted to throw it away.
Instead, after he left, she placed it inside the yellow measuring-tape tin her father had used for decades.
The next morning, Daniel did not open his garage.
By noon, Lyra was terrified.
At one in the afternoon, a black sedan pulled up outside the shop.
Paulie stepped out.
He looked grim.
“Get in,” he said.
Lyra’s hand went to the scissors on her cutting table.
“Where is Daniel?”
Paulie looked at her.
“He is alive.”
“Where?”
“He was taken.”
The room spun.
Lyra grabbed Noah’s card.
Then she looked at Paulie.
“Take me to Noah.”
Paulie shook his head.
“Noah said you were not to be involved.”
Lyra stepped closer, her eyes hard.
“Then Noah does not know me very well.”
May you like
For the first time, Paulie looked impressed.
Then he opened the car door.
