Chapter 2 - The Garment Weaver's Eye
The air in the room remained thick with the scent of antiseptic and polished leather. Dr. Cole reached into his tray for a fresh roll of sterile gauze, intending to cover the wound before anyone else could inspect it closely.
Elena did not back away. Her gaze was locked on the neat row of black sutures holding the incision together.
To an untrained eye, they looked like standard non-absorbable surgical silk. But Elena had spent her childhood surrounded by industrial textiles, high-tensile synthetic spools, and heavy-duty factory machinery. Standard surgical silk was soft, braided loosely to prevent tissue tear, and possessed a matte finish that absorbed body fluids cleanly.
The threads beneath Gabriel’s wound were stiff, unnaturally thick, and held a subtle, synthetic sheen. Worse, they were tied in an aggressive double-interlocking loop—a specific stitch used exclusively on heavy leather goods and industrial canvas to prevent breathability and trap internal heat.
Dr. Cole moved his hand to press a fresh pad over the site.
"Those stitches are wrong," Elena said quietly.
The voice was faint, but in the silent, tense room, it struck like a bolt of thunder.
Dr. Cole froze instantly. He turned his head slowly toward Elena, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses with sharp annoyance. "Excuse me?" he asked, his tone dripping with condescension. "What did you just say?"
Carmine’s head snapped toward the corner, his heavy brow furrowing. Gabriel did not move, but his dark, piercing eyes shifted toward the young woman in the beige uniform.
"I said the stitches are wrong," Elena repeated, her voice steady and calm despite the sudden, crushing pressure of three powerful men staring at her. "That is not surgical monofilament or braided medical silk."
Dr. Cole let out a soft, mocking laugh, dismissing her with a flick of his wrist. "Carmine, please remove this housekeeping staff immediately. She is interrupting a delicate medical evaluation."
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Dr. Cole turned back to cover the wound, hurrying his movements. But before the gauze could touch Gabriel’s skin, a hand shot out with blinding speed.
Gabriel’s large, tattooed hand clamped onto Dr. Cole’s wrist like a steel vise, locking the surgeon in place.
