Chapter 16 - The Patient in Cell 404
The subterranean corridors of the black-site facility smelled of ozone, bleach, and old copper. Armed guards walked their patterns every ninety seconds, their heavy boots echoing off the wet concrete walls.
Using a stolen keycard I had lifted from a patrol guard after striking his neck nerve to render him unconscious, I moved silently toward the deep containment wing marked Level 4.
I slammed through the security door of Cell 404. Inside, sitting in a wheelchair under a single harsh spotlight, was an elderly man with iron-gray hair, bound by heavy leather restraints. His eyes were milky white from cataracts, but his posture remained as rigid as a stone monument—Don Stefano Vance.
“You have the smell of rain and blood on you, girl,” the old Don rasped, his voice sounding like grinding stones. “Who sent you?”
“Your daughter poisoned Dante Moretti,” I said, stepping into the light, holding a glass syringe filled with a lethal dose of air directly over his neck artery. “She gave him Neuro-7. I know you designed it, and I know you kept the reversal enzyme synthesized in your private laboratory.”
The old man chuckled—a dry, terrifying sound. “Dante Moretti… the boy who rejected my lineage for a pathetic civilian. Why should I give you the cure? Dying by Neuro-7 is a beautiful torture. He will forget his name, his home, and eventually his own skin before his brain turns to soup.”
I didn't argue. I didn't beg.
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Instead, I stepped forward, grabbed his right index finger, and applied precise mechanical pressure to the joint until the bone clicked out of its socket. The old Don gasped in sudden shock, his white eyes widening in agony.
“I am a trauma surgeon, Don Vance,” I whispered directly into his ear, my voice devoid of any emotion. “I know precisely how to dislocate every single bone in your body without causing you to pass out from shock. You have two minutes before I start on your jaw.”
