Page 4 of Velvet Chains (The Dark Prince of Boston #2)

Chapter Four: Ruby

I arrived at the ER in silence, my scarf wrapped tight around my neck as my hands fidgeted in my lap, while Alek parked in the staff lot and helped me out without a word.

“What story do I give them?” I asked.

“You don’t give them a story,” Alek said simply. “Someone tried to strangle you. They’ll ask if you want to press charges. You say you’re the DA. They can’t say anything.”

“I know, I know. HIPPA.”

“Right,” he said, then turned to look at me. “Ruby, are you…I mean, I know you’re not okay. I don’t want to ask you if you’re okay because that’s a stupid question. But last night was a lot and I just want you to know that I’m here for you.”

I smiled. “I know. That’s why I hired you as my counsel.”

“Outside of being your counsel,” he said, not even smiling at my joke. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I guess I’m grateful to Batman after all.”

We weren’t the kind of friends who hugged a lot, but I couldn’t help but throw my arms around him. “Thank you,” I said. “For everything.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, pulling away from me. “Now let’s get you seen by a professional before anyone spots the DA hanging out in front of an ER and sobbing.”

“I haven’t even cried!” I protested.

“Yeah, but do you think the paparazzi care?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I’m a DA. Not a Kardashian.”

“Shame. I feel like you’d take me to nicer places if you were a Kardashian.”

We stepped into the hospital and through the wide automatic doors, the air sharp with antiseptic. It hit the inside of my nose and made my eyes water, or maybe that was just everything else catching up to me.

The receptionist at the front desk looked up, polite and distant—until she registered my face. Her mouth parted slightly.

Recognition. Sympathy. Curiosity.

And…there was a flicker of memory nagging at the back of my mind, making my heart ache: Kieran beside me instead of Alek, voice teasing as he said he was my husband, as he took care of me all night.

It hurt worse than the bruises on my neck.

Alek leaned in, voice low but steady. “This is District Attorney Marquez. We need a private room.”

“I’m afraid there are no private rooms,” the nurse said. “All patients must be seen by triage first.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Alek said. “We don’t want to hop in line. We can wait for triage as long as necessary. But we would like somewhere private to wait, even if it’s a janitorial closet.”

There was something oddly reassuring about watching Alek turn on his lawyer voice—it was like watching a bomb tech cut a wire with steady hands.

The receptionist’s eyes widened in recognition, then she nodded quickly, tapping on her keyboard for a few interminable minutes. “I’ll be right back,” she said to the person working with her as she got to her feet. “Right this way, please.”

We followed her down a side hall, past curtained bays and flickering fluorescent lights. The further we went, the quieter the hospital became. No one stopped us.

They led us to an exam room tucked behind a partially closed curtain. I sat on the edge of the bed, and the nurse murmured something about the doctor being with us shortly. I nodded without really hearing.

“A nurse will be here for triage soon,” she said. “You might be moved again.”

“Noted,” Alek said.

“Okay,” the receptionist, whose nametag was obscured by her long blonde hair, said. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Her footsteps receded before I moved to sit on one of the large plastic chairs next to Alek.

“Can’t believe Julian thinks it was a lover who got carried away choking me,” I said to break the tense silence. “I told him it was the window guy.”

Alek chuckled. “I guess that’s better than Kieran Callahan.”

“Is it?”

“You do have a thing for the rough and tumble type.”

I laughed. “Don’t let Julian hear you say that.”

Alek rolled his eyes. “You never even liked Julian that much,” he said.

“I married him.”

“Yeah, but because it was the thing to do,” he said. “Not because you wanted to. I have never seen a person more bored at their own wedding.”

He wasn’t wrong. I had spent most of the reception counting ceiling tiles and looking at people’s jewelry.

“In my defense, I was pregnant and everyone else was incredibly drunk.”

“You told me to get drunk!” he said with mock outrage.

“Well, someone needed to have fun,” I replied.

He laughed that time. “I get it,” he said. “I mean, I don’t want to get it, but now that I’ve seen the guy in person, I get it. But that can’t be enough, Ruby.”

“It isn’t,” I said. “As soon as he found out about Rosie, something changed. I needed to get him out of there. I needed to…I don’t know.”

The nurse walked in and her eyes widened when she saw me.

“Wait, are you—”

“This is District Attorney Ruby Marquez, yes,” Alek answered for me.

His voice was calm, the kind of calm that knew it was in control, that expected things to happen on its own terms. I wished I could feel that way. Instead, I just sat there, waiting for the nurse’s reaction, watching as she processed the words. The seconds dragged out like hours.

Her curiosity was almost tangible. I could feel it in the quick, darting glance at my scarf, at the place where the bruises were hidden. Emotions surged inside me, a chaotic mix of anger and shame. The kind of feelings I had learned to control, or thought I had.

“Congratulations on your win,” she said gently. “I’m so sorry you’re here today. Can you tell me what’s been going on?”

“A man broke into my house and strangled me,” I said. My voice caught, but I didn’t let it shake. “Last night. I, uh… I think I was in shock. My friend came for breakfast and he insisted I get checked out.”

Her expression didn’t change much, but something sharpened around the eyes. Not surprise—she’d probably heard worse—but anger. Quiet. Righteous.

“Thank you for coming in,” she said, her voice soft and certain now. “You did the right thing. A strangulation can be a very big deal. We take it seriously. Would you mind removing your scarf, please?”

I froze. The words hovered between us like a test I hadn’t studied for. My fingers went to the edge of the scarf, but I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Her tone shifted, lower now, careful. “You’re in control here, okay? Take your time.”

That cracked something in me. I untied it slowly, hands trembling—not from fear, but from the knowledge that once it was off, there was no more hiding. The truth would be plain. Ugly. Mine.

She didn’t gasp. But her pen stilled, her eyes lingering just a beat too long on the bruises. That flicker in her face—rage, grief, something hard and feminine—felt louder than a scream.

“Are you having trouble breathing?” she asked quietly, gently. And this time I knew: she didn’t just mean my lungs.

“No,” I said.

The nurse nodded. “Okay. Any pain when you swallow? Or tenderness along your throat?”

“A little,” I admitted. My voice sounded thinner than I meant it to.

She scribbled something on the clipboard. “Any dizziness? Headache? Changes to your vision?”

I shook my head. Then hesitated. “A little blurry last night, but it’s fine now.”

Alek looked over at me, concern written plainly on his face. I ignored it.

“Did you lose consciousness at any point?”

“No,” I said quickly. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I mean…everything got fuzzy,” I said. “But I remember it. All of it.”

The nurse nodded again, still clinical, but something had softened in her eyes. Not pity exactly. Something quieter. Understanding, maybe.

“Any hoarseness? Voice changes?”

“I’m the DA,” I said. “I talk for a living. You tell me.” I tried to make it a joke, but it didn’t quite land.

She glanced at Alek like she wasn’t sure if she should push. He gave her a tight smile that said just do your job .

“I need to ask you something a little more personal now,” she said gently. “Would you prefer if we had this conversation in private?”

“It’s fine,” I said. “He can stay.”

“Okay. Do you feel safe at home?”

“Yes,” I said, which immediately felt like a lie. Russell had broken in. He had almost killed me.

“Do you know the person who did this?”

“Yes.”

“Are you afraid they might hurt you again?”

No, because Kieran Callahan killed and dismembered him. “No,” I said. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

Her pen hovered. Then she gave a small nod. “Would you like to speak with a social worker or advocate today?”

“No, thank you. I have counsel.”

“By law, I’m required to document the offer,” she said, her tone softening. “But you’re not obligated to speak to anyone. Just let your doctor know if you change your mind. We want to make sure you have options.”

Alek and I flashed each other a look. “Okay. I understand. What happens now?”

“I’m going to get the attending,” she said. “They’ll likely order imaging—X-rays, maybe a CT, depending on what they see. You might be moved soon.”

“Okay,” I said, my voice barely audible.

She offered me a small, professional smile, then stepped out of the curtained room. The moment she was gone, I slumped back against the exam table.

“She was gentle,” I muttered. “That was worse than if she hadn’t been.”

Alek didn’t answer right away. I could feel his gaze on me. “It’s not weakness to accept compassion, Ruby.”

I looked up. “You’re just full of motivational quotes today, huh?”

“I moonlight as a TED Talk,” he said dryly.

“A TED speaker?”

“No. A TED Talk,” he replied.

I laughed quietly.

He just reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a pack of gum, offering me a piece like we were back in law school again, cramming for finals and hiding hangovers in fluorescent-lit classrooms.

I took it. Chewed. Swallowed the metallic taste of adrenaline.

Then the curtain rustled again.

Except it wasn’t the nurse.

It was a man dressed in slacks. Someone I had never seen before. He was in his late twenties; dark hair, brown eyes, pale skin. He wore a crisp white shirt, but I could tell this wasn’t an expensive suit.

The man he was with was clearly his senior in every way. Smaller than the young one in stature, but rounder in frame, he peered at me with something that bordered on hostility instead of curiosity.

They were obviously feds.

Alek clocked it at the same time as I did. “What are you doing here?”

“Just asking some questions,” the young one said. “I’m Darren Fitzgerald. This is my partner, Phil Hayes.”

They both flashed us their badges under their jackets.

“How did you get in here?” Alek asked. “This is a patient in triage. What the hell, guys?”

“That’s why we’re here. We didn’t want this to be scandalous,” Hayes said.

“Look, I appreciate that you might think this puts you in a precarious position, but I want you to understand that this is a courtesy. We didn’t go to your residence because there are reporters snooping around and we didn’t want to talk to you outside because we realize things might not look good for you if you’re seen talking to a couple of suits.

Believe it or not, Ms. Marquez, I voted for you. ”

“Endearing,” I said. “And irrelevant. You’ll speak to my counsel and only my counsel, Mr. Ivanov.”

I cocked my head toward Alek.

Hayes smiled, the kind of smile that said he didn’t like being told no. “Of course. Mr. Ivanov, then—maybe you can explain why your client’s house is now a crime scene.”

Shit. How did they know? Who had told them? Kieran had been careful. Everyone had been so careful. We had scrubbed the evidence, he had literally dismembered Mickey Russell. How was it possible that the FBI knew about this?

I swallowed. When talking to the authorities, I always tried to follow my own advice: don’t fucking do it.

“She wasn’t aware it was,” Alek said tightly. “And she has no idea why that would be the case. If you want to question her, you’ll need to go through official channels. This is still a hospital room, not an interrogation room.”

Fitzgerald took a step closer, pulling out a small notepad. “So you’re saying District Attorney Marquez has no information on the whereabouts of Mickey Russell?”

I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe. Alek’s jaw clenched so tight I thought he might crack a molar.

“I’m saying,” Alek said carefully, “that my client is under medical evaluation and will not be answering any questions without proper notice and a formal request. Which you can send to my office, in writing. I’m also saying that she’s the newly elected DA, so I would be very careful about slinging accusations around.

You don’t want an inquiry that’s happening due to politically motivated reasons, do you? ”

Hayes tilted his head. “No need to be so hostile. We just wanted to offer her a chance to speak before things escalated.”

Before Alek could reply, the curtain rustled again.

Kieran stepped in, slow and deliberate, hands raised like he was walking into a shootout. “Actually,” he said, “you should be talking to me.”

The room froze.

Alek turned to him, eyes wide. “Kieran—”

But Kieran ignored him. He looked straight at the feds. “My name is Kieran Callahan. I’m the one who killed Mickey Russell.”

Hayes blinked. Fitzgerald’s pen stilled on the pad.

“What?” I asked, my voice too loud in the quiet room.

“I killed him,” Kieran repeated, gaze steady. “Ruby was the target. I intervened. He’s dead. That’s on me.”

Alek looked like he might actually explode. “Are you out of your mind?”

I knew he wanted to say that he told him to stay the fuck away from me, but that would only be incriminating me further, so he wouldn’t do it.

Kieran didn’t look at him. He was too busy watching the agents.

Hayes raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. And where is the body now?”

Kieran smiled, slow and dangerous. “You think I’d be dumb enough to tell you that part?”

Alek put a hand on his forehead. “Christ.”

I swallowed hard, the bile rising in my throat, my heart beating so hard I thought I might faint. “Get out,” I said. “All of you. Now.”

And they didn’t move—not right away. But they would.

Because I was the District Attorney.

And I was done letting men speak for me.

…Even when it was clear, at least, that Kieran would take the fall for me.