Chapter 6 - THE LAUNDRY CHUTE ESCAPEThey scrambled through the back supply closet just as the heavy metal door of Trauma Bay Two was blown off its hinges with a deafening charge.
Boom!
Smoke billowed into the room as three heavily armed men in black tactical gear and gas masks poured in, rifles raised. They found an empty bed, a pool of blood, and a shattered window.
"Target is moving! They're heading toward the annex!" a voice crackled over their comms.
Inside the narrow, dust-choked ventilation shaft, Dante crawled first, holding little Chloe tightly against his chest with one arm while navigating the metal grates with the other. Elena crawled directly behind them, her uniform tearing on a sharp screw, her knees scraping raw against the corrugated steel.
"Keep going! Don't look back!" Elena panted, her lungs burning from the trapped dust and gunpowder.
They dropped out of the shaft like falling timber, landing squarely in the mountain of industrial white sheets inside Rivergate's basement laundry facility. The enormous washing machines hummed with a low, vibrating drone, drowning out their heavy breathing.
Dante gently set Chloe down on a pile of clean linens. He checked her dressings; they were holding, but just barely. The little girl’s eyes fluttered open. She looked up at her father, then past him to the nurse who had blood and soot smeared across her cheek.
Chloe reached out a tiny, trembling hand, her fingers brushing against Elena’s wrist.
"Mom... said you're my real father, sir..." The little girl whispered, her voice barely louder than a dying breath.
The mafia boss went completely silent.
The industrial hum of the laundry room seemed to die away. Dante Vance froze, his breath catching in his throat as if he had been struck in the chest with a sledgehammer. All the color drained from his face, leaving him looking older, hollowed out, and utterly shattered.
Elena knelt beside them, confused by the sudden, suffocating tension in the room. "What did she say?"
Dante didn't answer. His hands trembled as he looked down at his daughter.
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Before he could speak, the heavy steel exit door at the end of the laundry room was kicked open with a thunderous crash. Three armed mercenaries stepped into the room, their assault rifles raised, crosshairs locking directly onto Dante’s chest.
"Found you, boss," a cold voice sneered from behind a tactical visor.
