Chapter 2 - THE SHADOW IN THE PARKING GARAGEWhile Clara fought to keep Viktor Vance from flatlining under a dim halogen lamp, a second figure slipped through the sliding glass doors of the hospital's subterranean parking deck.
He moved with the silent, predatory grace of a man who spent his life in the blind spots of security cameras. He wore a black nylon windbreaker, the hood pulled low to cast his face in shadow, and his right hand was buried deep in his pocket, wrapped around the checkered grip of a suppressed Smith & Wesson.
His name was Julian Vance. Viktor's younger brother. And the man who had ordered the bullet into Viktor's ribs three hours earlier at a warehouse on the industrial waterfront.
Julian stopped beside a pillar marked Section C-4, pulling a small, encrypted burner phone from his jacket. He dialed a quick, twelve-digit sequence.
"Talk to me," a raspy voice answered on the other end.
"He didn't go to General," Julian said, his voice a low hiss that echoed off the concrete pillars. "General is our territory. St. Ambrose is cleaner, quieter. He's there."
"You sure?"
"I tracked the blood on the asphalt for four blocks before it mixed with the rain," Julian spat. "He's fading. If he gets a proper trauma team, he lives. If he gets patched by some sleep-deprived nurse, the infection takes him by Tuesday. Either way, I want eyes on him. Send the sweepers."
"The hospital is crawling with cops on the upper floors," the voice cautioned. "A hit inside the ER is messy."
"I didn't say make a mess," Julian snarled, his eyes narrowing as a distant ambulance siren wailed outside on the street. "I said make sure he doesn't leave that building alive. And check the staff registry. I want to know every single person who touches his chart. People have a habit of digging up old graves when dying men start talking."
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Julian hung up, pocketed the phone, and stepped back into the shadows as a patrol car cruised slowly past the entrance ramp, its amber lights painting the damp concrete in slow, rhythmic sweeps.
He had waited ten years to take the Syndicate from his older brother. He wasn't going to let a stubborn old ghost and a third-rate hospital ruin the coronation.
