Chapter 12 - Shadows in the Hospital Corridor
The trip back to St. Jude Memorial Hospital was the longest drive of my life. Even though Aunt Victoria had assured me that elite private security was guarding Elena and our newborn son around the clock, an overwhelming sense of dread gnawed at the back of my mind. My mother’s parting words echoed in my ears: *The syndicate won’t let a boy like you dismantle decades of infrastructure. They’re coming for you.*
When I arrived at the maternity wing, the atmosphere felt unnaturally quiet. Too quiet.
The nurses’ station at the end of the hallway was completely empty. The computer monitors flickered with static, and a half-cup of coffee sat cooling on the desk, steam long since vanished. I broke into a run, my footsteps muffled by the industrial carpeting.
As I rounded the corner toward Elena’s private recovery suite, my heart stopped.
Both of Aunt Victoria’s private security guards were slumped unconscious against the corridor wall, breathing heavily, their tactical vests undisturbed but their breathing unnaturally slow. Chloroform or a fast-acting neurotoxin.
I drew my breath sharply, pulled my phone from my pocket to call emergency backup, but before I could tap the screen, a heavy hand gripped my shoulder from behind, pressing a cold, steel pistol barrel firmly against the base of my skull.
“Don’t make a sound, Mr. Sterling,” a low, mechanical voice whispered in my ear. “Step inside the room, nice and slow, or your wife and child join the angels tonight.”
May you like
My muscles tightened, every instinct screaming to fight back, but my eyes flicked toward the open door of Elena’s room. Through the crack, I could see the edge of the hospital bed and a tall figure in a dark trench coat standing over Elena, holding a syringe filled with clear liquid.
I raised my hands slowly and stepped through the doorway.
