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THE COLONEL’S REVENGE: They Thought Her Rank Was Just A Piece Of Paper—Until The Airborne Division Showed Up / Chapter 7 / 8

Chapter 7 - RACE AGAINST TIME

“Mom...”

Behind me, Abigail suddenly gasped. Her hands flew to her throat.

I spun around. Abigail was stumbling backward, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. Her skin was turning a terrifying shade of blue as she collapsed toward the floor!

“ABIGAIL!” I screamed, catching her before she hit the ground.

Major Vance rushed over, checking her pulse. “She’s in anaphylactic shock—no, her heart rate is spiking to 180! Poison!”

“Call emergency transport NOW!” I roared to the Military Police.

Within ninety seconds, the doors of the Ritz-Carlton were thrown open. A black U.S. Army MEDEVAC helicopter landed directly in the middle of the closed-off city intersection outside, its rotor blades whipping up a blinding hurricane of dust and rain.

I scooped my daughter into my arms and sprinted out of the hotel, ignoring the flashing news cameras and shouting reporters.

We boarded the chopper, and the bird lifted off instantly, banking hard toward the specialized military medical trauma center at Fort Liberty.

Inside the cabin, flight medics swarmed over Abigail, attaching monitors and shoving an oxygen mask over her face.

“Her blood pressure is plummeting!” a medic yelled over the deafening roar of the engines. “It’s a rare synthetic neurotoxin—Organophosphate-based! We need a military-grade atropine auto-injector immediately!”

“Do it!” I shouted, holding Abigail’s icy hand. “Save my daughter!”

The medic slammed the auto-injector into Abigail’s thigh.

For ten agonizing seconds, her body convulsed violently. The flatline alarm on the heart monitor blared in my ears like a death knell.

“Come on, baby... come back to me,” I begged, tears finally breaking through my military composure. “Don’t leave me, Abigail. Fight!”

Beep... Beep... Beep...

The monitor stabilized. Abigail’s chest rose in a deep, gasping breath. Color slowly returned to her lips.

“She’s stable!” the medic shouted, exhaling a breath he had been holding. “The toxin is neutralized!”

I collapsed back against the helicopter wall, pulling my daughter close to my chest, weeping silently in relief.

Suddenly, my secure satellite phone rang in my jacket pocket.

I pulled it out. It was an unlisted, heavily encrypted satellite frequency.

I answered it, my voice cold as ice. “Patricia’s in federal custody. Whoever you are, you’re next.”

A deep, raspy voice answered from the other end of the line—a voice I hadn’t heard in twenty years.

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