Chapter 6 - The Siege of St. Jude’sThe red emergency lights pulsed rhythmically against the damp stone walls of the subterranean hallway. Emma gripped her father’s arm, guiding him swiftly toward the service stairwell at the opposite end of the wing.
“They cut the main power,” Arthur panted, leaning heavily on her shoulder. “The only exit is through the boiler room.”
“Keep moving, Dad. Marcus is right outside with the state police,” Emma urged, scanning the shadows as heavy footsteps echoed closer.
Suddenly, three armed private security guards stepped out from the intersecting corridor, their black tactical vests emblazoned with the Sterling Corporation logo. At their head stood Victor Vance, holding a silenced pistol, his expression twisted into a cold, predatory sneer.
“Well, well, well,” Victor chuckled, stepping forward into the red glare. “Family reunions are always so touching. Too bad this one is going to be extremely short-lived.”
Emma calmly placed her father behind her, stepping forward without a flicker of fear. “You’re out of time, Victor. The state police received the automated distress beacon the moment we unlocked Ward 7. Every bank account, subsidiary, and offshore shell company you and Nathan own has already been frozen by the federal prosecutor.”
Victor’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but he quickly recovered, raising the pistol higher.
“Federal prosecutors can’t do much when there’s a tragic accident in an abandoned sanatorium,” Victor hissed, his finger tightening on the trigger. “A gas leak, an old building collapsing... it happens all the time.”
“Is that what you told my mother before you poisoned her tea?” a calm, deep voice echoed from the shadows behind Victor.
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Victor froze. The security guards turned sharply around as Marcus stepped out from the service corridor, flanked not by police, but by four federal marshals with assault rifles leveled directly at Victor’s chest.
“Drop the weapon, Uncle,” Marcus said coldly. “The performance is over.”
