Elias Warwick needed just two seconds to size up Elodie when he saw her.


    He gave a curt nod.


    Elodie had already swung the car door open in a sh.


    Elias slipped into the passenger seat with practiced efficiency, the kind of smooth, agile movement that belonged to someone well-trained.


    Elodie clocked it, but she wasn''t all that surprised. She nced at the rearview mirror, shifted gears, and floored the gas.


    She knew this hospital and the surrounding streets like the back of her hand. After countless trips here over the past two years, she could navigate these roads in her sleep. With a quick spin of the wheel, she sped off.


    Elias couldn''t help turning his head, watching her at the wheel.


    Herplexion was pale and refined, her face a mask of calm, betraying not the slightest emotion-not even with a car tailing them, intent on giving chase.


    She kept her focus on the traffic ahead, blending in with the flow and easily losing the car behind.


    A hard tap on the elerator, and Elodie had them pulling into the nearest shopping district, where crowds and traffic packed the streets.


    "Trouble," Elias murmured, checking the rearview before finally looking over at Elodie.


    She shrugged, unbothered, and shot him a question, "What was that all about back there?"


    The car that had chased Elias had meant business—its aggression was enough to make anyone''s skin crawl.


    Elias unfastened his seatbelt, his sharp features revealing nothing. "Let''s just say I have some unfinished business."


    Just some? Elodie could tell he wasn''t keen to borate.


    She didn''t press.


    "You''re not scared?" Elias was genuinely taken aback.


    She seemed like the quiet, gentle type, and yet she hadn''t shown a trace of panic.


    "I am," Elodie replied inly.


    Elias arched a brow, barely perceptible. "Then why help me?"


    Elodie turned her head, her voice steady and clear. "It''s not out of the goodness of


    my heart. I''d like to ask if you, Mr. Warwick, could spare some time to help my uncle with a treatment n."


    She was direct, not bothering with any pretense.


    Elias hadn''t expected that.


    He studied her for a moment, then let out a slow, surprised chuckle.


    After a beat, he guessed her motive. "You wanted to ask me about this thest


    time we met, didn''t you?"


    Elodie didn''t deny it.


    That was, in fact, why she''d stepped in to help.


    A favor for a favor. Otherwise, she wouldn''t have gotten involved.


    Elias pushed the door open and stepped out. Regarding her straightforward request, he looked at Elodie''sposed face and answered, just as straightforward, "Of course. No problem."


    This exchange told him a lot.


    Elodie had a sense of boundaries. Even though she''d wanted to ask him about her uncle before, she hadn''t rushed it. Now, she''d done him a good turn, and it made perfect sense to return the favor-no awkwardness, no strings attached.


    Elodie felt a wave of relief.


    Elias being Fergus''s physician meant even small differences in a treatment n could have huge consequences for a patient. She had to take the chance if it meant a better shot at recovery.


    "Thank you." Getting the answer she wanted, she asked quietly, "Will you be alright getting home?"


    Elias nodded. "Someone''sing to pick me up."


    Elodie gave a small nod in return. "Alright. Goodbye."


    Elias stepped back, giving her a half-smile. "See you next time."


    Elodie looked away, calm, not lingering. She turned the car around and drove off.


    She hadn''t been gone long when another car pulled up.


    Elias got in with the same efficient movement.


    Naylor Whitaker turned around from the driver''s seat, frowning. "Foreigners?"


    Elias nced at his phone. "Most likely."


    Naylor''s expression grew more serious.


    He knew Elias had spent years as a doctor with international aid organizations, working in war zones and disaster areas. Saving lives without regard for nationality, status, or politics meant stepping on some powerful toes, and that came with its share of enemies.


    Retaliation wasn''t umon.


    But this was getting brazen.


    "Don''t worry," Naylor said, his voice turning steely. "The authorities are already handling it. Doesn''t matter whose turf it is."