Chapter 4Trial by Fire

The numbness was turning into a deep, burning ache. I crawled for my phone and opened my photos. A picture of a yellowed page from a notebook. A list of names and numbers. My grandfather's voice: "Elara, I'm an old man. If you're ever in real trouble, call these numbers. These men... they owe me their lives. They'll protect you." I knew the names. Political kingmakers. Media moguls. And one at the top: Augustus Blackwood. The patriarch of the city. My grandfather never called them. We were poor, but he was proud. He wouldn't use his honor as a debt to be collected. How could I? I let the phone fall from my numb hand. … When they finally let me "go home," a doctor gave me the news. "The nerve damage... it's extensive. You'll be able to live a normal life, but... I'm sorry, Ms. Peyton. You'll never operate again." I was walking to my room when a cloth was pressed over my face. I woke up briefly, confused. Sienna was holding my hand, pressing my thumb onto an inkpad, then onto a document. When I fully woke up, my bags were gone. My phone buzzed. A text from Sienna. An address. "Want your cheap medals back? Come and get them." My family's medals. The last thing I had. My hand was useless, my career was gone, I had no money, no power. I looked at my phone. I dialed the number.