Chapter 5 - Waking the Dragon
Aldrich Steel’s eyelids fluttered.
Orion abandoned his conversation with Ren instantly, rushing to his father’s side. He gripped the older man’s frail, cold hand, his hard expression melting into a look of profound filial devotion that completely transformed his face.
"Dad? Can you hear me?" Orion asked, his voice cracking slightly.
Aldrich slowly turned his head, his cloudy gray eyes adjusting to the amber lamplight. He coughed again, wincing as the freshly stitched wound pulled against his chest.
"Orion..." the old man rasped, his voice like dry autumn leaves scraping across pavement. "Are we... are we in hell?"
"Not yet, old man," Orion half-laughed, a wetness shimmering briefly in his eyes. "We're in a cabin in the Cascades. Thanks to Dr. Callaway here."
Aldrich shifted his gaze slowly toward Ren, who had stepped closer to check his IV drip. The old crime lord studied her face with an intensity that proved age had done nothing to dull his sharp, analytical mind.
"You..." Aldrich muttered, his breath coming in shallow hitches. "You have the eyes of someone who has walked through fire."
"And you have the stubbornness of a man who refuses to die," Ren replied dryly, adjusting his blanket. "Your heart rate is stabilizing, but you need absolute rest for forty-eight hours. No moving, no talking business, and definitely no getting shot."
Aldrich let out a raspy, rumbling chuckle that turned into a wine-induced cough. "I like her, Orion. Reminds me of your mother. Sharp tongue, steady hands."
Orion stood up, offering a faint, weary smile. "She threatened to throw us both out into the snow if we didn't behave."
"She wouldn't dare," Aldrich grunted, closing his eyes. "The Steel family owes this woman a debt that can never be fully repaid. Remember that, son."
Within minutes, exhaustion claimed the old man again, and his breathing deepened into a heavy, natural sleep.
Orion stepped away from the table, motioning for Ren to follow him toward the far corner of the cabin near the stone hearth.
"He's going to make it," Orion said quietly, leaning his back against the rough stone.
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"He'll make it if he stays off his feet," Ren corrected, crossing her arms. "Which means you're going to have to stay here until my supply run next Tuesday. Unless you want to carry a seventy-year-old recovering trauma patient down a muddy mountain trail in the freezing rain."
"I'm not going anywhere," Orion said, holding her gaze. "Not until I know you're safe from whatever fallout comes from Marcus's little coup."
