Chapter 5 - The Diagnosis
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The private veterinary clinic wasn't a clinic at all. It was a fully equipped, state-of-the-art medical facility hidden behind an unmarked warehouse door in the industrial district.
An older man in a white coat was waiting for them. Dr. Silva didn't ask questions. He didn't look at the armed guards. He simply pointed to a stainless-steel examination table.
"Up, Nero," Hannah commanded softly, tapping the table.
With a slight whine, the wolfdog complied, his amber eyes locked onto Hannah’s face as if she were his only lifeline.
Dr. Silva moved quickly, drawing blood and checking the dog's vitals while Hannah continuously stroked Nero’s muzzle, whispering calming words.
Lorenzo stood by the door, his arms crossed over his broad chest, watching the scene with narrowed eyes.
Ten minutes later, the centrifuge dinged. Dr. Silva read the results on a monitor and his face went pale.
"You were right, Ms. Reed," the doctor said, glancing nervously at Lorenzo. "It's a synthetic amphetamine cocktail. Highly concentrated. It induces extreme paranoia, elevated heart rate, and severe aggression. If he had exerted himself much longer, his heart would have ruptured."
Lorenzo’s jaw tightened. A muscle ticked in his cheek, the only outward sign of the murderous rage boiling beneath his calm exterior.
"Administer the counteractant," Lorenzo ordered coldly. "And flush his system."
As the doctor prepared the IV, Lorenzo walked over to Hannah.
"You saved his life twice today," Lorenzo said, his voice dropping to a low rumble meant only for her ears. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a sleek, black checkbook. "Name your price, Hannah. For the shelter, or for yourself. Whatever you want."
Hannah looked at the checkbook, then up into his dark eyes. A flash of irritation sparked in her chest.
"I don't want your money, Lorenzo," she said, her voice firm.
Lorenzo paused, genuinely surprised. "Everyone wants money."
"I don't," Hannah countered, crossing her arms defensively, which only accentuated her lush curves. "I didn't step in front of an eighty-pound wolfdog for a payout. I did it because it was the right thing to do. Use that money to build a better enclosure for him, and hire handlers who don't abuse him."
She turned back to Nero, completely dismissing the most powerful man in Chicago.
Lorenzo stared at the back of her head. Women usually threw themselves at him, desperate for his wealth and status. But this beautiful, fiercely protective woman had just rejected his money without a second thought.
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A dark, possessive spark ignited in Lorenzo’s chest.
He didn't just want to reward her. He wanted to keep her.
