Chapter 7 - Lockdown at Saint Jude’s
The security alarm at Saint Jude’s Memorial Hospital didn't wail; it pulsed in a rhythmic, low-frequency red strobe that bathed the fourth-floor corridor in an eerie, hellish glow.
"All personnel initiate Code Gray lockdown. Repeat, secure all primary access points," a synthesized voice droned smoothly over the PA system before the audio feed cut out entirely with a harsh electronic squeal.
Inside Room 412, the situation transformed in a fraction of a second.
Antonio moved with terrifying speed, shedding his exterior calm like a cloak. He holstered a weapon he had kept concealed beneath his jacket, his eyes darting to the reinforced windows of the hospital room.
"Damen, status," Antonio commanded, his voice slicing through the chaos.
"The front lobby is compromised," Damen reported, his hand resting tightly on the grip of his Sig Sauer as he scanned the corridor through the narrow glass window. "Costa didn't send a hit squad this time; he sent an army. They’ve cut the hardline communications and jammed cell signals within a three-block radius. We’re locked inside a concrete box."
Sarah clutched the hospital blankets to her chest, her voice trembling. "They’re here for Lily... aren't they?"
"They’re here to wipe out the remaining Moretti bloodline," Antonio said grimly, pulling a spare encrypted radio from Damen's coat and tossing it onto the bed stand. He turned his attention squarely to Ethan. "Sterling. You have three minutes before they clear the second-floor stairwell. Take the mother and the child through the maintenance shaft behind the linen closet. My car is idling in the ambulance bay."
Ethan didn't move. He stood his ground, crossing his arms over his chest. "And leave you here to play target practice? I don't think so. If Costa’s men breach this floor, we either all get out, or none of us do."
Antonio stared at Ethan, a flicker of genuine shock crossing the mafia boss's severe features. Most men—businessmen, politicians, ordinary civilians—wet themselves at the mere mention of Antonio’s name, let alone stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him against an armed syndicate hit squad.
"You’re a stubborn fool, Ethan Sterling," Antonio muttered, a grim, humorless ghost of a smile touching his lips. "Damen, secure the hallway. We’re moving through the service wing."
Before Damen could reach the door, a concussive blast rocked the east wing of the hospital.
BOOM.
The heavy fire door at the end of the hallway blew inward, showering the linoleum with shredded drywall, twisted steel hinges, and thick, gray smoke. Through the billowing haze, three heavily armed men in black tactical gear and Kevlar vests emerged, their suppressed carbines raised and sweeping the corridor with cold, methodical efficiency.
Damen didn't hesitate. He raised his pistol and fired twice through the open doorway, dropping the lead assailant before the man could acquire a target.
"Contact left!" Damen yelled, ducking back inside the room as returning fire chewed through the outer wall, sending wood splinters and plaster flying across the floor.
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Ethan reacted on raw instinct. He scooped Lily up into his arms, shielding her small body against his chest, while with his other hand, he grabbed Sarah by the arm, hauling her out of the hospital bed despite her weak condition.
"Move, move, move!" Ethan shouted, diving toward the back service door as the room behind them dissolved into a deafening storm of lead and fire.
