Chapter 9 - The Siege at St. Jude’s
Nora lunged for the door before Marco could draw his weapon, but Roman’s hand snapped out, catching her wrist with iron strength. Despite the agonizing pain ripping across his freshly sutured abdomen, he swung his legs over the edge of the steel table, standing up on shaking legs.
“Let me go!” Nora screamed, clawing at his grip. “He has her! He’s going to kill my baby!”
“Petrov doesn't kill leverage, you fool!” Roman snarled, pulling her close until his face was inches from hers. “If you walk in there alone, he puts a bullet in your head and trades Mia to the highest bidder on the dark web. You want her alive? You move with me.”
Nora stopped thrashing, her chest heaving as she looked into his dark, unforgiving eyes. For the first time, she saw something beyond cruelty in his gaze—a cold, calculating fury that mirrored her own maternal desperation.
“You can’t even walk across this room without tearing your stitches,” she said through clenched teeth.
Roman picked up a heavy black trench coat from the tool bench, sliding his arms through the sleeves without a single wince, though his skin beaded with fresh sweat. “Then you’d better pack extra thread, Nurse. Marco, call the vanguard. Every soldier on the payroll converges on St. Jude’s pediatric wing. We take the building down before Petrov walks out with my blood.”
Twenty minutes later, three black SUVs tore through the hospital gates, ignoring the security barricades. The rain came down in blinding sheets, turning the asphalt into mirrors under the blue and red lights of deserted police cruisers. Petrov’s mercenaries had already locked down the ground floor, sealing the pediatric intensive care unit behind heavy security doors.
Roman stepped out into the rain, racking the slide of an automatic rifle. He looked down at Nora, who stood beside him clutching her trauma kit.
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“Stay behind me,” Roman commanded, his voice cold as a winter grave. “If anything moves that isn't wearing scrubs, I put it in the ground.”
A gunshot blew the front glass doors of the lobby outward, scattering shards across the wet pavement.
