Chapter 12 - War in the Neon CorridorsThe sterile beep of the heart monitor sounded like a countdown to execution.
"Marcus. Get the tactical team stationed at every perimeter gate, now," Adrian ordered, his voice dangerously low, stripped of all human warmth. He stood up slowly, the air around him crackling with a terrifying, coiled energy. The man who had wept over my hand moments ago was gone; in his place stood the shadow lord of the Chicago syndicate.
"Wait," I gasped, clutching at Adrian's sleeve with my weak fingers. "Our daughter—she's in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit on the fourth floor. If Vance's men are moving on the hospital..."
"They won't get within a mile of her," Adrian interrupted, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that burned right through my soul. He leaned down, pressing a fierce, lingering kiss to my forehead. "Stay in this bed, lock the doors, and don't open them for anyone unless they speak the pass-code 'Venezia'. Do you understand me?"
"Adrian, don't go alone," I begged, terror gripping my chest like a vise. "It's a trap. You said it yourself—they lured you to that clinic to draw you out."
"Let them try," Adrian whispered, pulling a sleek, matte-black firearm from his shoulder holster with a practiced, fluid motion. He checked the magazine with a sharp click, slid it back into place, and turned toward the door. "Nobody touches my blood. Nobody touches my family."
As Adrian strode out of the room, Marcus lingered behind for a fraction of a second, slapping a heavy tactical keypad over the manual door lock. "Mrs. Moretti, stay away from the windows," he warned grimly before slipping out into the hallway.
Alone in the dim room, the silence was deafening. Every shadow cast by the flickering hallway lights outside looked like an assassin waiting to strike. I tried to sit up, but my body felt like it was filled with lead. The emergency C-section had left me hollowed out, my abdomen burning with a sharp, searing pain with every breath. Focus on survival, I told myself, gripping the metal side rail. Our daughter is alive. She's fighting upstairs. I have to fight down here.
Outside in the corridor, the first muffled pop of a silenced gunshot shattered the quiet.
My heart leapt into my throat. Then came the unmistakable sound of breaking glass, heavy boots slamming against tile, and the frantic, echoing shouts of security guards clashing with intruders. The hospital had transformed into a warzone in a matter of seconds.
Suddenly, the heavy metal door of my room shuddered. Someone was leaning against it from the outside, sliding down with a wet, heavy thud.
Thump. Thump.
"Venezia," a ragged, choking whisper echoed through the narrow gap beneath the door frame.
It wasn't Adrian's voice. It was Marcus.
Panic clawed at my throat. Had Marcus been compromised? Had Vance's men broken through the outer perimeter?
"Mrs... Moretti..." Marcus’s voice strained, laced with agonizing pain. "Open... window... sniper..."
Before I could process the warning, the glass window of my hospital room exploded inward in a shower of glittering, razor-sharp shards. I threw my arms over my face, screaming as pieces of glass sliced into my forearms and rained down on the bed.
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Through the haze of dust and shattered windowpanes, a dark, armored figure dropped soundlessly from the exterior ledge, landing directly on the hospital floor. A black tactical mask hid the intruder's face, but the massive combat knife gleaming in his right hand was all too clear.
He didn't hesitate. He raised the knife and stepped toward the bed.
