Chapter 5 - The Underworld's Wrath
The red laser dot climbed up Tessa’s chest, illuminating the raw terror in her eyes. The mercenary raised his weapon, his finger tightening on the trigger.
BANG.
A single, echoing gunshot shattered the basement air.
The mercenary gasped, his weapon falling from his hands as a dark circle bloomed in the center of his forehead. He collapsed forward onto the concrete floor like a sack of stones.
Standing in the doorway behind him, a smoking pistol in his hand, was Barrett Cade.
His face was splattered with blood, his coat torn, but his eyes were completely calm—the terrifying serenity of a man who had walked through hell so many times he knew the devil by his first name. Behind him, Paul Greer stood, nursing a bleeding shoulder wound but still upright.
"Are you alright, Nurse Morrow?" Barrett asked, stepping over the body without looking down.
Tessa let out a ragged, sob-choked breath, dropping the tire iron. "Yes... yes. But the hospital... Barrett, Wesley is poisoning her! They’re using Vecuronium! She has less than twelve hours!"
Barrett didn't yell. He didn't swear. He simply reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, looking at the email Tessa had sent minutes prior.
"Paul," Barrett said softly.
"I’m here, boss."
"Call every man we have on the docks. Call the crews from East Houston. Tell them to bring everything they have. We’re going to St. Catherine Memorial."
Paul looked at Barrett, his eyes wide. "Boss... that’s a full-scale assault on a public hospital in the middle of the city. The National Guard will be called."
"Let them call whoever they want," Barrett said, turning toward the door. "Wesley Prescott thought he could use the law to slow me down. He thought his money made him a king. I’m going to show him what happens when you try to kill a Cade."
By midnight, the storm over Houston had reached a crescendo. Lightning ripped through the sky, illuminating the glass towers of St. Catherine Memorial Hospital.
Inside the VIP wing, the corridors were eerily quiet. Wesley Prescott sat in the leather armchair next to Jolene’s bed, watching the mechanical drip of the IV machine. The paralytic was doing its work. Jolene’s heart monitor showed a dangerously erratic pattern. The baby’s vitals were dropping.
"Just a few more hours, my love," Wesley whispered, reaching out to stroke her pale cheek with a sickening tenderness. "A tragic loss. A grieving husband. The Prescott foundation will build a new pediatric wing in your memory. And the DA will lose their star witness."
Suddenly, the lights inside the room flickered and died.
The entire hospital was plunged into total darkness. The emergency backup generators clicked on three seconds later, casting the room in a dull, eerie red glow.
Wesley stood up, his brow furrowed. "Connie!" he called out into the hallway.
No answer.
Wesley walked to the heavy wooden door of the VIP suite and pulled it open.
The hallway was entirely empty. The nurses’ station was abandoned. The only sound was the distant, muffled echo of sirens outside—and something else. A heavy, rhythmic thudding sound coming from the elevator bay.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Wesley stepped out into the corridor. The red emergency lights cast long, distorted shadows against the walls.
The heavy double doors of the elevator bay swung open.
Walking out of the elevator, side by side, were twenty men dressed in dark clothing. They didn't carry hidden weapons; they carried tactical shotguns and automatic rifles openly. Leading them was Barrett Cade.
At his side was Tessa Morrow, carrying a portable medical kit she had taken from the safe house.
Wesley felt a cold drop of sweat slide down his spine. He reached into his jacket pocket for his phone, but before his fingers could touch it, Paul Greer raised his weapon and fired a single shot.
The bullet shattered the wall phone right next to Wesley’s head, showering him with plastic sparks.
"Step away from the door, Wesley," Barrett said, his voice echoing through the empty corridor like thunder.
Wesley backed up into the VIP room, his hands raised in front of him. "Barrett, you’re insane! You’ve brought an armed militia into a hospital! There are security guards, there are police on the first floor—"
"There were security guards, Wesley," Barrett said, stepping into the room. His men instantly flooded the hallway, sealing off every entrance and exit. "They work for a private company that takes my money when the checks are bigger than yours. The police are currently dealing with a series of coordinated warehouse fires across the harbor district. Nobody is coming for you."
Tessa bypassed Wesley entirely, rushing to Jolene’s bedside. She immediately shut off the IV drip containing the paralytic agent and ripped the line from Jolene’s arm. She hooked up a clean saline bag from her kit and began administering the counter-agent to flush the toxins from her system.
"She’s barely breathing!" Tessa yelled, checking Jolene’s pupillary reflex. "The baby’s heart rate is under eighty! We need to move her to the operating room for an immediate C-section right now!"
Wesley saw his entire plan evaporating before his eyes. The desperation turned into a wild, unhinged rage. He lunged toward the nightstand, reaching for a heavy, gold-handled walking cane resting against the wall.
Before his fingers could wrap around the brass handle, Barrett swung his arm with blinding speed.
The butt of Barrett’s shotgun caught Wesley square in the jaw. The sound of bone cracking filled the room as Wesley was thrown against the wall, crashing to the floor, his mouth spitting blood.
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Barrett picked up the walking cane, examining the heavy brass head. He saw the faint, microscopic traces of dried blood embedded in the decorative engraving.
"This is it, isn't it?" Barrett whispered, his eyes locking onto Wesley, who was groveling on the floor. "This is what you used to break my sister."
