Chapter 3 - The Ghost of the Harbor“Who’s coming?” I whispered back, my heart slamming against my ribs.
“The men who put me here,” Dominic replied, his eyes scanning the shadowed corners of the ICU room as the rain battered the exterior glass.
Before Vance could turn toward the door, a muffled explosion rocked the floor below us. The entire building shuddered. Glass shattered down the hall, followed by the sharp, unmistakable crack of suppressed automatic gunfire.
Clack-clack-clack.
Screams echoed from the nurses' station. Heavy boots rushed down the linoleum corridor outside our door, accompanied by the wet thud of bodies hitting the floor.
Vance raised his pistol, aiming squarely at the door. “Hold the line! Protect the asset!” he shouted into his radio, but only static hissed back. They had jammed all communications.
Dominic looked at me, his dark eyes fierce and demanding absolute trust.
“Listen to me very carefully, nurse—what’s your name?” he demanded, cutting through the chaos.
“Clara,” I gasped.
“Clara,” he repeated, rolling the name on his tongue like a rare vintage wine. “Underneath the mattress, on the left side. There’s a loose floorboard. Pry it open.”
“Are you insane? You just had major abdominal surgery!”
“Do it, Clara! Or we both die in this room in the next sixty seconds!”
Driven by sheer terror and survival instinct, I shoved my hand under the heavy mattress. My fingers brushed against cold, rough wood. I clawed at it, ignoring the splintering pain in my nails, until a heavy metal lockbox popped free into my hands.
Simultaneously, the heavy oak door of room 412 blew inward in a shower of splintered wood and smoke.
Agent Vance fired three rapid shots into the corridor, but a dark silhouette stepped through the haze, returning fire with brutal efficiency. Vance dropped instantly, a red blossom spreading across his chest as he hit the floor.
I screamed, dropping the lockbox.
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An assassin clad in all-black tactical gear, wearing a night-vision visor that glowed an eerie green, stepped over Vance’s body. He raised a silenced pistol directly toward the bed—directly toward Dominic’s head.
I didn't think. I lunged.
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