The hushed silence that fell over the hospital corridor was deafening. I could practically hear the gears turning in everyone's heads as they processed what they were witnessing: Roman Volkov, the feared power of Havenwood City, was showing me respect.
Tyson Berg's face had turned an interesting shade of gray. His enforcers suddenly found the floor tiles absolutely fascinating. Dr. Desmond Davenport looked like he might faint.
"Mr. Knight," Roman repeated, "what seems to be the problem here?"
I gestured toward the peasant woman clutching her feverish child. "This woman's son needs urgent medical attention, but certain people seem to believe jade pendants and gold chains are more important than a dying child."
Roman's expression hardened. He turned to his men. "Handle them."
