Chapter 11 - The Face of the Serpent
The second guard reached for his weapon, but a sudden hand clamped over his mouth from behind, followed by a sharp strike to his solar plexus. Marcus appeared like a ghost, dragging the gasping guard into an empty janitor's closet and slamming the door shut.
""Go!"" Marcus barked. ""I'll hold the corridor!""
Ethan kicked open the double doors of the neonatal ICU. The sterile room was quiet, filled only with the rhythmic hum and soft chirping of monitors. In the center of the room stood an advanced incubator, glowing with blue phototherapy lights.
Standing right beside the glass capsule was Eleanor.
She was holding a small syringe in her gloved fingers, her face illuminated by the artificial blue light. Her eyes turned toward Ethan as he entered, devoid of fear or surprise.
""You're late, Ethan,"" she said smoothly, as if commenting on the weather. ""The nurses here are dreadfully understaffed tonight. It's almost negligent how easily an outsider could tamper with an infant's life support.""
""Put it down, Eleanor,"" Ethan said, his voice dangerously calm as he stepped closer, his fists clenched at his sides. ""If you depress that plunger, I will kill you with my bare hands right here.""
Eleanor smiled faintly, a terrifyingly serene expression. ""You won't kill me. You're too much like your father. Soft. Weakened by sentiment. This child is a curse upon our family name. Born of a common woman with no pedigree, destined to usurp thirty years of my hard work.""
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""He is your grandson!"" Ethan roared.
""He is a parasite,"" Eleanor countered coldly, raising the needle toward the port of the IV line feeding into the incubator. ""Just like Clara.""
