676 "Beyond the Echo of Gunfire and Stolen Blood: Where Family Lies Unmask a Father’s Ultimate Betrayal, a Stolen Ledger Ignites a Corporate War, and the Truth Emerges from the Darkness"

The air in the sub-basement maintenance corridor smelled of damp concrete, old copper, and burning electrical dust.

We moved in a tense, silent huddle. Dominic pushed the gurney with steady, expert precision, keeping Maya’s oxygen tank secured between his forearms. Dr. Vance had stayed behind with security to stall any intruders on the fourth floor, buying us precious minutes. Arthur Sterling stumbled along beside the gurney, his hands handcuffed temporarily with heavy-duty zip ties that Dominic had produced from his jacket pocket.

And I walked right beside Maya, manually pumping the bag-valve mask to force oxygen into her pale, shivering lungs.

“She’s stabilizing,” I whispered, checking the pulse oximeter clipped to her cold, blue-tinged finger. The digital numbers flickered up from 82 to 91. “We’re keeping her alive, but she needs a full ICU ventilator within the hour or her lungs will collapse from the river water.”

“We’ll get her there,” Dominic said without breaking stride, his eyes scanning the dim overhead flickering fluorescent bulbs. “My truck is parked in the lower loading dock bay four. It’s armored.”

Sterling gave a bitter, hysterical laugh that echoed off the concrete walls. “Armored? Dominic, you think an armored car is going to stop a multi-national freight syndicate? They own the Port Authority! They own the city council!”

“They don't own the federal marshals I’ve been feeding documents to for the last six months,” Dominic replied evenly. He turned a sharp corner past a stack of spare industrial laundry bins, heading toward the heavy fire exit marked with a glowing red sign.

That was when the rhythmic metallic clink of combat boots echoed from the stairwell behind us.

Clank. Clank. Clank.