The Doctor's Return

"Elara."

I jumped, nearly dropping a tray of vials. Dr. Aris stood in the doorway. He wasn't supposed to be here until eight.

"Dr. Aris?"

"I need you to run an errand," he said while fidgeting with a black folder. "Some materials need to be picked up from a private courier. It's downtown."

I paused, wiping my hands on my apron. My back ached, and my legs felt heavy.

"Doctor, I'm in the middle of the blood panels for the oncology study. Picking up materials isn't in

my job description. That's for the logistics team."

Aris stepped into the room, finally looking at me. "The logistics team isn't cleared for this. I need

someone I trust. Someone discreet."

"I'm exhausted," I said flatly. "I've been on my feet for sixteen hours. I'll do it, but only if it's

overtime. Double pay for the hours I'm off-site, plus a voucher for the subway back."

He nodded quickly.

"Fine, no problem. Don't worry about the subway. There's a car waiting outside the east exit. They'll bring you back when you're done."

That was the first red flag. Aris was usually stingy enough to count the number of latex gloves we used. For him to agree to double pay without an argument meant he was desperate, or someone else was footing the bill. I stripped off my lab coat, grabbed my bag, and headed for

the exit.

The car was a black sedan with tinted windows.

 Two men sat in the front. They were wearing

identical black suits and sunglasses, despite the sun not being up yet. They didn't speak when I

approached. One of them simply unlocked the back door.

I hesitated. New York had taught me to be suspicious of everything that felt too easy.

But then I thought about the notice I'd received yesterday morning, the one informing me that

my tuition payment was overdue and my student account would be frozen in forty-eight hours.

Aris wouldn't set me up to be kidnapped. He needed me for the lab work too much.

So, I got in.

The car pulled up in front of a heavy steel door with no signage.

I knew this place.

It was an elite private club, the kind where the membership fee cost more than my four-year

degree.

"Out," the driver said. It was the first word anyone had spoken.

"This isn't a courier office," I said, my heart beginning to thud against my ribs. "What is this?"

"Go inside, Ms. Vance. You're expected."

The second man got out and stood by my door, gesturing toward the entrance. His posture told

me that getting back in the car wasn't an option.

I walked toward the door. It opened before I could touch the handle.

The two men led me down a hallway and opened a set of double doors.

The room was large, and a man was seated at the center. He was tall, even while sitting, dressed in a black tuxedo. He had dark hair