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The ICU room was chaos. "He’s hemorrhaging!" Dr. Tessa Morgan screamed, grabbing the paddles. "Charge to 200!" / Chapter 8 / 10

Chapter 8 - THE SURGEON’S CHOICEI didn't hesitate. I pulled my medical kit from my tactical vest—I had come prepared for a procedure. I didn't reach for a gun; I reached for the central power line that fed the synthetic liver module.

"If you cut that," the administrator warned, "the synthetic organ will fail. He’ll die."

"If I leave it," I said, looking at my son, "he’s already dead."

Graham stood in front of me, taking the bullets from the guards who had just entered the room. "Do it, Owen! Save him!"

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The heavy mahogany door of the east gallery closed softly behind me, but the silence inside did not comfort me. It pressed down like lead.

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The cool marble of the private east gallery felt chilling beneath my fingertips. The pale moonlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows illuminated The Blue Woman, the haunting masterpiece my mother had painted just weeks before her tragic death.

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