Chapter 2 - The Breach in the Waiting Room
I spun around on my heel, bolting out of recovery and down the narrow corridor toward the lobby, Adrian’s heavy footsteps pacing right behind me.
The front reception area was a disaster.
The reinforced glass of our front door was spider-webbed with cracks, a heavy iron crowbar wedged deep into the frame. Maya was backed against the front desk, holding a heavy steel oxygen canister like a club, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Standing outside the shattered glass, illuminated by the gray morning light, was a man in a soaked canvas jacket holding a snub-nosed revolver.
He wasn't one of Adrian’s men.
"Open the door, little nurse!" the man snarled through the crack in the glass, his eyes wild and desperate. "We just want a minute with the kid inside! Open it or I put a round through the drywall!"
I didn't panic. In the waterfront district, you learn fast that panic is just another word for bleeding out early. I reached for the panic alarm beneath the front desk, but before my fingers hit the button, Adrian moved past me.
He didn't yell. He didn't draw a weapon. He just stepped directly into the line of sight through the shattered glass.
The man with the revolver froze. The color drained from his face so fast it looked like someone had turned off a light switch inside his skull.
"Tommy," Adrian said softly, his voice cutting through the space between them with absolute, bone-chilling clarity. "You always were terrible at following orders. Who sent you? Was it Marcus, or did you crawl out from under a rock on your own?"
Tommy’s hand shook violently, the barrel of the revolver wobbling. "Adrian... look, man, I didn't know—they said the kid was dead—they said—"
"They lied," Adrian interrupted, taking one deliberate step closer to the cracked glass. "And now you're standing on my property, pointing a piece at my doctor."
A second later, the alley beside the clinic erupted into motion. Three of Adrian’s men materialized from the shadows, descending on Tommy before he could turn around. A dull thud of a fist hitting bone, a sharp cry of pain, and the revolver clattered across the wet pavement. Within five seconds, Tommy was pinned face-down in the mud, his hands zip-tied behind his back.
Adrian didn't even watch the takedown. He turned slowly back toward me, his expression entirely unreadable.
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"Like I said, Doctor," Adrian murmured, stepping back into the lobby. "The leak hasn't plugged itself yet."
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