Chapter 7 The Slums

"Daddy?"

The tiny, weak voice broke the silence.

Luke moved faster than lightning, dropping to his knees beside the hospital bed. Zoe's heavy eyelids fluttered open. She looked at her arm wrapped in a fresh cast, then looked at the giant, muddy man kneeling beside her.

"I'm here, Zoe," Luke whispered, his eyes softening. He gently brushed hair from her pale forehead. "Daddy's here. Does it hurt?"

Zoe shook her head slowly. The painkillers were working. She reached out with her good hand and grabbed his worn coat.

"You're still here," Zoe smiled, weak but genuine. "When I fell asleep at the wedding... I was scared you'd go away again."

Behind him, Sarah covered her mouth, fresh tears escaping her eyes.

A soft knock at the door.

Dr. Thorne stepped into the room, holding a small paper bag of vitamins and pain relievers. He kept his eyes lowered, careful not to give away Luke's identity.

"The cast is set," Dr. Thorne said smoothly, handing the bag to Sarah. "She's stable and can be discharged." He briefly made eye contact with Luke. The message was clear: You have one month to find the serum.

"Thank you, Doctor," Sarah whispered, bowing deeply. "Thank you for everything."

Since Luke had "used his favor" with Helena Frost, the hospital charged nothing. Sarah carefully wrapped Zoe in her wedding veil, and Luke lifted his daughter into his arms.

They walked out of the gleaming hospital and hailed a cheap, beaten taxi.

"Where to?" the driver grunted, eyeing Luke's filthy coat in the mirror.

Sarah gave an address on the edge of the city. The Southside Slums.

Twenty minutes later, the taxi dropped them in an alley that smelled of rotting garbage and damp concrete. No streetlights. Cracked roads. Tenement buildings held together by rust and mold.

Luke stood in the freezing rain, holding a sleeping Zoe. He looked up at the towering, crumbling building.

"It's not much," Sarah said quietly, looking down at her muddy heels in shame. "When the Quinn family kicked me out five years ago, they froze my accounts. This was the only place that didn't ask for a deposit. It's on the sixth floor. The elevator's been broken for years."

Luke didn't say a word. He followed his wife up six flights of dark, urine-stained stairs.

When Sarah unlocked the door to Apartment 6B, Luke felt a pain sharper than any bullet he'd taken in the wars.

The apartment was the size of a closet. The wallpaper peeled off in strips, revealing black mold underneath. No heating. A rusted bucket sat in the middle of the floor, catching a steady drip of freezing water from the ceiling.

In the corner lay a single thin mattress on the floor, covered in cheap blankets.

This was where his wife — once the city's greatest beauty — had lived for five years. This was where his daughter starved, freezing in the dark, while Luke sat on a throne of unimaginable wealth and power.

"I'm sorry," Sarah whispered, hurriedly kicking toys into the corner. She wouldn't look at him. "It's a mess. I had to sell the heater last month for Zoe's cough medicine. But... we're safe here. The Vance family doesn't know about this place."

Luke stepped inside. He laid Zoe gently on the mattress, pulling the blankets to her chin.

He stood and looked at Sarah. She was shivering in her ruined dress, rubbing her bare arms for warmth.

Luke took off his heavy military coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. The coat was thick, radiating warmth.

"Luke?" Sarah blinked, looking up. "You'll freeze."

"Pack your bags, Sarah," Luke said softly.

"What?" Sarah frowned. "Pack what? Luke, it's almost two in the morning. We have nowhere else. You used your favor with the Frost Group. We have zero money—"

"Pack whatever matters," Luke interrupted gently, wiping dirt from her cheek. "Leave the rest. We're not sleeping in this room again. Tomorrow morning, I'm buying you the greatest home in this city."

Sarah let out an exhausted sigh. She looked at him with pity. She thought the trauma had finally made him delusional.

"Okay, Luke," she whispered, too tired to argue. "Tomorrow. We'll buy a mansion tomorrow. Just... please. Let's get some sleep."

Sarah lay down on the mattress beside Zoe, pulling Luke's coat tight around herself. Within minutes, exhaustion pulled her into deep sleep.

Luke stood in the dark apartment.

He walked to the cracked window leading to the rusted fire escape. He pushed it open, stepping out into the freezing night.

He pulled out a cheap cigarette and struck a match. The flame briefly lit his cold, dead eyes.

He took a long drag, exhaling smoke into the rain.

The Southside Slums were usually noisy with stray dogs and drunken fights.

But tonight, it was dead silent.

Too silent.

Luke looked down at the dark street six stories below.

The streetlights flickered and died.

From the shadows of the alleyways, figures began to emerge. Ten. Twenty. Fifty.

They moved with lethal silence. Under the faint moonlight, Luke saw the glint of machetes, iron pipes, and guns.

A massive man covered in tribal tattoos stepped out of a black SUV at the end of the block. Viper.

Viper looked up at the sixth-floor balcony. He saw the glowing red ember of Luke's cigarette. Viper smirked, drew a combat knife, and pointed it directly at Luke. He signaled his fifty men to enter the building.

The hundred million dollar bounty had arrived.

On the balcony, Luke didn't panic. He didn't run inside to wake his wife.

He just let out a slow, annoyed sigh.

"Trash," Luke whispered, his eyes narrowing as he flicked the cigarette over the railing. "Always making noise when my daughter's trying to sleep."