Chapter 11 - Blood on the Linoleum
Marcus closed the gap before Arthur could reacquire his target. He drove his shoulder straight into his father's midsection, carrying both of them crashing to the hard linoleum floor.
The gun discharged with a muffled pop, the bullet shattering a glass cabinet of saline bottles overhead. Liquid and glass showered down around them.
The two private security guards rushed forward to intervene, but Dr. Chen grabbed a heavy stainless-steel oxygen canister, swinging it with unexpected fury and cracking the first guard across the jaw. The man dropped instantly. The second guard reached for his holster, but Marcus wrestled Arthur’s arm around, twisting the older man's wrist until bone cracked.
Arthur screamed in agony, dropping the weapon. Marcus swept the pistol across the floor, driving his elbow hard into Arthur's temple.
The patriarch of the Vance family collapsed backward, groaning, his nose broken and bleeding freely.
The remaining guard froze, looking from the unconscious mercenary on the floor to Marcus, who now held the fallen firearm, aimed squarely between the guard’s eyes.
""Drop it,"" Marcus ordered coldly. ""Or you join them.""
The guard slowly unclipped his holster, letting his sidearm clatter to the floor, and raised his hands above his head.
""Get on your knees. Both of you,"" Marcus barked.
Vanessa stood frozen in the doorway, staring in utter horror at the carnage inside the operating room. She slowly slid down the wall, burying her face in her blood-stained hands, weeping hysterically.
Sirens echoed outside the hospital windows—real sirens this time. Scores of them. Blue and red flashing lights illuminated the ceiling of the operating theater.
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""Donald brought the cavalry,"" Marcus muttered, lowering the weapon slightly.
Arthur spat blood onto the floor, glaring up at his son with unbridled venom. ""You think you've won, boy? You have no idea who else was on those ledgers. You just signed your family's death warrant.""
