Chapter 5 - The Siege of Mercy General
Arthur straightened up instantly, every muscle in his body turning to coiled steel.
“How did they find this location?” Arthur demanded into the wall console. “The hospital address was scrubbed from all public registries.”
“It wasn't public channels,” Leo’s voice shot back over the static. “Someone inside the hospital administration fed them our floor coordinates. They’re breaching the ground-floor security doors right now. They think you’re vulnerable because your detail is split between here and the safehouse.”
Arthur turned back to Chloe, who was already sliding off the bed, ignoring the IV pole trailing behind her.
“Get back under those blankets,” Arthur ordered, his voice brooking no argument.
“I’m not hiding in a corner while my life is on the line,” Chloe snapped, grabbing a heavy metal bedside tray with surprising strength. “If Malcolm Croft wants to start a war in a hospital, he’s going to have to deal with more than just your men.”
Arthur stared at her for a fraction of a second, a strange, fierce pride flaring in his chest. She wasn't just the diner owner who had patched up his side three quarters of a year ago; she was a survivor, bearing his child, standing ready to fight back against an entire criminal empire.
“Stay behind the structural concrete pillar near the bathroom,” Arthur instructed, his tone turning absolute. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a heavy, suppressed automatic pistol, checking the slide with a smooth, practiced click. “If anyone opens that door who isn't wearing a Romano insignia, you shoot. Do you understand me?”
Chloe swallowed hard, but nodded, gripping the metal tray like a shield as she backed toward the fortified corner of the room.
Arthur moved to the door, pulling it open just a fraction of an inch.
Outside in the corridor, the fluorescent lights flickered and died, plunging the hallway into emergency red-tinted backup illumination. Heavy footsteps echoed up the tile floor—boots, tactical gear, the unmistakable sound of silenced rifle safeties clicking off in unison.
“Romano!” Malcolm Croft’s raspy, furious voice echoed down the hall from the elevators. “Bring out my daughter’s fiancé! And bring out the whore who ruined my family’s name!”
Arthur stepped out into the hallway, letting the heavy door click shut behind him.
He didn't raise his gun yet. He simply stood in the center of the corridor, his dark coat sweeping around his legs, his expression colder than the winter storm raging outside the hospital windows.
Ten feet away, Malcolm Croft emerged from the smoke-hazed corner, flanked by four elite syndicate enforcers holding automatic submachine guns.
“You’re losing your mind, Malcolm,” Arthur said, his voice cutting through the red-lit silence. “Attacking a hospital? Your syndicates in the East Coast are going to strip you of your commission before morning when they find out you declared war on an active medical facility.”
“My daughter is weeping in a hotel room because you humiliated her in front of the entire city!” Malcolm roared, raising his cane to point directly at Arthur’s chest. “And you expect me to sit quietly while you protect a diner waitress? Kill him. Leave no witnesses.”
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The four enforcers raised their weapons.
Arthur didn't blink. He raised his suppressed pistol with lightning speed, his finger tightening on the trigger just as the elevator doors behind Malcolm chimed again—and a second, much heavier wave of gunfire erupted from the opposite end of the hall.
