Luke’s eyes fluttered open, his vision blurry as the sterile white walls of a hospital room came into focus. Pain coursed through his body with every breath, each movement sending sharp jolts up his spine. His limbs felt heavy, his skin hot beneath layers of bandages. Slowly, he turned his head to take in his surroundings.

Where am I? he thought, the dull ache in his skull making it hard to concentrate.

A groan escaped his lips, and soon enough, his assistant appeared at his bedside, her face pale and full of concern.

"Sir, you’re awake!" she exclaimed, relief flooding her voice. "I was so worried about you. Let me get the doctor."

Before Luke could protest, she rushed out, calling for the doctor down the hallway.

Moments later, a middle-aged man in a white coat walked briskly into the room, his expression serious but calm.

"Good afternoon," the doctor greeted as he approached the bed. "Can you hear me?"

Luke clenched his jaw, trying to push past the throbbing pain in his body. "Yes," he managed through gritted teeth. "Why... am I in so much pain?"

The doctor’s face softened with sympathy. "It appears you were badly beaten. You sustained severe bruising, a break in your right leg, and two broken ribs. It’s remarkable you survived such an attack."

Anger flared in Luke’s chest, momentarily masking the pain. Beaten... The memory of the night before was fuzzy, but fragments began piecing themselves together. The gang, the men who had dragged him away. And all because of him. Because of Eric Hart.

“How long will it take to heal?” Luke growled, his voice laced with fury.

“We would like to keep you here for at least a week to monitor your recovery,” the doctor explained. “After that, we’ll reassess to see if you’re ready for discharge.”

Luke forced himself to nod. His body was screaming for rest, but his mind was already plotting.

“I’ll let you get some rest now,” the doctor said, glancing at his chart. “I’ll check on you later this evening.”

As the doctor left the room, Luke’s assistant stepped closer, her hands nervously fidgeting. “Sir, I’ve sorted all the hospital bills. Is there anything else I can do for you? Are you hungry or thirsty?”

Luke’s expression darkened. His voice was cold when he finally spoke. “I don’t care about that. I need out of here as soon as possible. I will have my revenge on that asshole and take back what should have been mine!”

The assistant backed away, eyes wide, not daring to say another word.

Later That Day…

Luke’s world had shifted violently when he was dragged out of the hospital by masked men, his body barely able to resist. He had regained consciousness just long enough to feel his body being thrown into a van. Pain radiated through every bone as they drove to a destination unknown to him.

By the time the van pulled up to an abandoned warehouse, fear and confusion gripped him. They threw him to the ground, his body jolting awake from the impact, but the gag in his mouth kept him from speaking. His eyes widened in terror as he saw the figure standing before him—the gang leader, a cold smile playing on his lips.

The leader crouched down, yanking the gag from Luke’s mouth.

"What did you say?" the leader mocked, his voice dripping with malice.

Luke’s voice was barely a whisper, the words tumbling out in desperation. “Who are you? Please, don’t hurt me. I’m sorry!”

The gang leader laughed, a dark, chilling sound that echoed through the empty warehouse. “Sorry? I don’t think so. You’ll pay for touching what belongs to Mr. Hart.”

Luke’s eyes widened, and despite the pain, a wave of realization hit him. Eric Hart. That was the man’s name. The man who had been with Emily. Rage flickered in Luke’s chest, even through his fear. Just wait... if I live through this, I’ll hunt you down.

The gang leader stood up and turned to his men, his voice loud and commanding. “Teach him a lesson. Show him you don’t mess with Eric Hart or the people he cares about.”

Without hesitation, the gang members closed in, their fists and boots raining down on Luke. He tried to fight back, but his body was already weak. Blow after blow landed, and before long, his world went dark again, his body broken and bloodied on the cold, concrete floor.

The gang leader looked down at Luke, his face devoid of sympathy. “Pick him up, put him in the van, and dump him on the side of the road where he belongs.”

The men obeyed without question, dragging Luke’s unconscious form into the van and driving out into the night, only to discard his body on the side of the road like a piece of garbage. They smirked as they slammed the door shut and drove off, leaving him for dead.

The night had been long, and Luke had no memory of how he ended up back at the hospital, but as he lay in that sterile bed, the rage simmering inside him threatened to boil over.

His assistant watched him nervously, unsure of what to say.

Luke’s voice was dark and full of promise as he clenched his fists beneath the hospital sheets. “Eric Hart... you’ll regret the day you crossed me.”