Chapter 9 - THE SIEGE OF ST. MARY’S“Jack, they’re breaching the third-floor corridor!” Ryan barked over the sound of muffled gunfire echoing up through the air vents.
“Let them come,” I muttered, stepping out into the hallway of Room 347, leaving the door cracked just enough to keep an eye on Hannah.
The amber emergency lights cast long, distorted shadows down the corridor. At the far end, heavy tactical boots crunched against broken glass as three armed mercenaries in black Kevlar helmets rounded the corner, rifles raised.
I didn't hesitate.
I stepped out from behind the doorframe, raised my pistol, and fired twice.
Bang! Bang!
The lead mercenary dropped instantly, a clean round through his ceramic trauma plate sending him crashing backward into his teammate. The second gunman spun around, tracking me, but Ryan appeared from the side alcove like a ghost, his submachine gun hammering a rapid burst into the wall above their heads before sweeping low.
“Clear!” Ryan shouted, kicking an assault rifle away from a downed operative.
“They’re using smoke grenades!” I warned, seeing a red canister rolling down the hallway toward us, hissing thick, blinding white smoke that instantly began to choke the corridor.
“Jack!” Hannah’s voice cried out weakly from inside the room.
Before I could turn back, a heavy hand grabbed me by the shoulder from behind.
I spun on instinct, driving my elbow hard into the ribs of a fourth mercenary who had dropped from the ceiling maintenance hatch. The man grunted, dropping his weapon, but before I could finish him, a sharp voice echoed through the smoke.
“Drop your weapon, Callahan! Or the baby in the incubator stops breathing right now!”
I froze.
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Through the dense white smoke, two more operatives emerged from the NICU access stairwell.
And right between them, holding a small detonator against the glass wall of the neonatal nursery, stood Marcus Vance himself, smiling like a demon in the dark.
