Chapter 13 - Rebuilding the Scalpel
The transformation of St. Jude's Hospital underground wing took three weeks.
Gone were the rusted carts and flickering fluorescent tubes of Lena's hiding days. In their place stood a high-tech, reinforced surgical ward funded by the Lombardi syndicate's legitimate medical foundations. Lena stood in the center of trauma bay one, adjusting the overhead halogen lights as they cast a brilliant, shadowless beam across the stainless steel operating table.
Her hands were steady. The muscle memory had fully returned, sharpened by weeks of intense planning and execution.
The service door swung open, and a young resident stepped in, holding a tablet. "Dr. Ortiz, the night shift is prepped. But we have an unscheduled intake coming in from the docks. Gunshot wound, heavy blood loss, elite security detail."
Lena didn't look up from her instruments. "Bring him in. We don't ask who they are down here. We only save them."
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The resident hesitated. "It's one of Marco's captains. Shot by a rival syndicate trying to muscle in on the vacuum left by the DOJ sweep."
"Then prep the rapid infuser and get a cross-match for O-negative," Lena commanded, her voice cutting through the room with absolute authority. "I didn't spend eight months hiding in a dumpster just to lose a patient on my own table."
