Chapter 5 - THE OVERRIDE CODE
Beep. Beep. Beep. BEEP.
The digital keypad outside Room 402 flashed a furious red. The electronic override code Marcus’s henchman was using was eating through the primary security lock digit by digit.
Claire backed away from the door, clutching Lily tighter against her shoulder. The little girl whimpered softly in her sleep, burying her face deeper into Claire’s collarbone.
“Come on, come on,” Claire whispered, her eyes darting frantically around the luxury suite. There was no fire escape. The windows were high-impact, soundproofed security glass meant to withstand a hurricane—or a bullet. They didn't open.
She was trapped on the fourth floor of a locked hospital wing, hunted by a syndicate executive who left a trail of bodies behind him, and protected only by the lingering shadow of a man who had just woken up from a coma ten minutes ago.
Suddenly, the frantic beeping at the door stopped.
Dead silence fell over the hallway.
Claire held her breath. Had the override failed? Had the security system locked them out permanently?
Then, a metallic scraping sound echoed against the door frame. A low hum vibrated through the wood.
Hiss.
A pressurized gas nozzle had just been slid through the air-conditioning vent above the door.
Panic surged through Claire’s veins like liquid fire. They weren't just trying to break in; they were smoking her out.
She bolted toward the bathroom, slamming the heavy wooden door behind her, twisting the interior lock just as a thick, sweet-smelling white vapor began to billow out from the ceiling vents of the main suite.
The air turned hazy instantly. Claire soaked a small hand towel under the sink tap, pressing it firmly over Lily’s nose and mouth, while wrapping her own scarf around her face. She dropped to her knees on the tiled floor, coughing violently as the edges of her vision began to blur.
The gas was heavy. It was industrial-grade knockout serum.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The heavy oak door of the suite splintered under the brute force of a crowbar. Heavy footsteps crunched across the carpet, followed by a cold, arrogant voice cutting through the fog.
“Search the bathroom,” the voice ordered. “Mr. Vance wants them both found. Alive if possible. Dead if necessary.”
A heavy boot kicked against the bathroom door. The wood cracked down the center.
Claire backed into the corner, shielding Lily with her entire body. She closed her eyes, tears streaming down her face, and whispered a desperate apology to the universe for failing her little girl.
The bathroom door burst open off its hinges, crashing onto the tiles with a deafening roar.
A man in a tactical vest stepped through the smoke, a silenced pistol raised in his right hand, a cruel grin plastered across his face. He looked down at Claire like a hunter staring trapped prey in the headlights.
“Gotcha,” the man sneer-whispered, raising the barrel of the gun.
May you like
Before he could pull the trigger, a dark, heavy shadow materialized directly behind him in the doorway.
A massive, scarred hand reached out from the smoke, clamped around the man’s throat with the force of a hydraulic press, and hoisted him off his feet without a single sound.
