NATHAN CROSS STRIKE BACK..

Chapter 11

Claire could not believe what she was hearing.

She stared at Vivienne Sterling — her employer, the woman she had protected for six years — lying curled on the pavement, frost spreading across her skin, and genuinely thought she had misheard.

"Let him try." Let *him* try?

Nathan Cross. The fraud. The con artist. The man whose file Claire had just finished reading in the car twenty minutes ago. The same man accused of forgery, theft, and plagiarism. The same man who had been publicly kicked out of his own company. The same man who had stolen a classified drug formula and tried to pass it off as his own work.

That man.

Vivienne wanted *that man* to put his hands on her.

No. Absolutely not, Claire was not going to allow it.

"Miss Sterling—" Claire's voice came out sharper than she intended, but she did not care. "The doctors are on their way already. They're going to be here very, very soon. They'll be here very, very soon. They're on their way."

She took a breath, her frustration mounting with every second.

"I will not allow this good-for-nothing con artist to lay his hands on you," Claire continued, her words clipping together in her urgency. "I'm very, very sure he doesn't know what he's doing. He's clueless. And the only reason he's here—" She gestured sharply toward Nathan. "After I get you to safety and we've been interrogating him, then we can talk to him. But right now—"

"Claire."

Vivienne's voice cut through, weak but insistent.

Claire stopped.

She looked down at her employer and felt something cold settle in her chest that had nothing to do with the frost spreading across Vivienne's skin.

Vivienne was shaking. Not just from the cold. From pain. From the effort of staying conscious.

Her breathing was shallow. Her lips had started turning blue. The frost on her skin had reached her collarbone and was still spreading.

This was worse than the other episodes.

Much worse.

"I'm very sure that before the doctor comes, I will die," Vivienne whispered.

The words landed like a stone in water.

Claire froze.

"Miss Sterling, you don't—"

"I do," Vivienne said, her voice barely audible now. "I know my body, Claire. I know how fast this moves. If we wait... I won't make it."

Claire's hands clenched into fists at her sides.

She wanted to argue. She wanted to pull Vivienne into the car and drive to the Sterling family's private facility where real doctors — trained, credentialed, trustworthy doctors — could handle this properly.

But she had seen these episodes before.

And she had never seen one this bad.

Vivienne's breathing was too shallow. Her skin was too pale. The frost was spreading too fast.

Fifteen minutes.

The doctors would not make it in fifteen minutes.

Vivienne was right.

"So let me take that risk," Vivienne whispered. "Let him try."

Claire stood frozen, every instinct screaming that this was wrong.

But Vivienne had made her decision.

And Vivienne was dying.

Claire looked at Nathan Cross, standing a few paces back with that unnervingly calm expression, and felt hatred coil in her chest.

If he hurt Vivienne — if this went wrong — Claire would destroy him personally.

But Vivienne had said to let him try.

Claire stepped aside.

Vivienne lay on the pavement, her vision blurring at the edges, the pain in her chest unbearable.

She could feel the cold spreading through her body like ice water in her veins. Her lungs felt tight. Every breath was harder than the last.

She was running out of time.

Claire did not want to believe it. Claire wanted to wait for the doctors. Wanted to follow protocol. Wanted to protect her the way she always had.

But Vivienne knew her body.

She knew what this felt like.

And she knew that if they waited, she would be unconscious — or worse — before help arrived.

Then Nathan Cross had appeared.

She did not know how. She did not know why.

But she remembered the warmth.

The warmth from the night before. The way his body had felt against hers. The way something in her had responded to him instinctively, like her body recognized something it had been searching for without knowing it.

And now he was here.

Standing over her. Looking at her with calm, certain eyes.

She did not know if she could trust him.

She did not know if Claire's research was right. She did not know if Nathan was lying. She did not know if this was the worst decision she would ever make.

But she knew one thing:

If she did nothing, she was going to die, so she had whispered the words.

"Let him try."

And she meant them.

Not just because she was desperate.

Not just because she was out of options.

But because something inside her — something she could not explain and did not have the energy to question was telling her that he could help.

That he would help.

She did not know why she believed it, but she did, however, that was not the only reason she was insisting.

For some reason, it seemed something within her was just actually calling, was just actually calling, believing that yes, he would be able to help her, he would be able to do something.