Chapter 10 - Blood Against Steel
Marcus didn't hesitate. He raised Miller’s pistol with both hands and squeezed the trigger.
The gunshot roared in the enclosed ICU room, deafening and blinding. The bullet clipped Julian’s shoulder, spinning him into the door jamb. Julian’s weapon discharged uncontrollably, chewing a line of jagged holes through the ceiling panels and raining acoustic tile down onto the floor.
Julian snarled, dropping the jammed submachine gun and lunging forward with a combat blade drawn from his tactical vest. He tackled Marcus across the small room, both men crashing into the steel supply cabinets.
Pills, bandages, and surgical instruments rained down around them. Marcus slammed his elbow into Julian’s ribs, but Julian drove his forehead forward, connecting brutally with Marcus’s nose. Pain and crimson blood exploded across Marcus’s vision.
Julian pinned Marcus against the floor, his forearm pressing hard across Marcus’s windpipe, the edge of the serrated blade descending toward Marcus’s neck.
""You took everything from me!"" Julian spat, saliva spraying from his lips. ""Father loved you! The board chose you! Even Nia looked at you like you were some kind of god! You're nothing without that name!""
Marcus choked, oxygen cut off from his lungs, his vision tunneling into blackness. Through the ringing in his ears, he heard Maya’s terrified screams from behind the bed.
No. Not tonight. Not to my family.
Marcus reached blindly with his right hand across the floor, his fingers brushing against a heavy stainless-steel surgical tray. He gripped the edge, swinging it with all his remaining strength into the side of Julian’s skull.
CLANG.
The impact threw Julian off balance. Marcus gasped in air, planting both feet against Julian’s chest and kicking him backward. Julian crashed into the IV pole, knocking over the drip stands.
Marcus scrambled to his feet, wiping blood from his eyes, and leveled the pistol directly at Julian’s chest.
""Move, and I’ll end this right now,"" Marcus growled, his voice guttural and raw.
Julian lay sprawled against the wall, clutching his bleeding head. He looked up, breathing heavily, and suddenly began to laugh—a broken, hysterical sound.
""Go ahead, Marcus! Shoot me! Shoot your own brother! Show your little girl who you really are!""
The corridor outside suddenly echoed with shouting. ""Federal agents! Freeze! Drop the weapon!""
Four tactical marshals swarmed through the shattered doorway, rifles trained on Julian. Agent Harris rushed in behind them, taking in the scene of destruction. ""Secure him! Get the medics in here!""
Two marshals pinned Julian to the floor, disarming him and locking his hands in heavy steel restraints. Julian thrashed against the floor, screaming curses until they dragged him out into the rain-drenched corridor.
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Marcus lowered the gun, his hands shaking violently as the adrenaline ebbed away. He turned toward the bed.
Nia’s monitors were still beeping. And on the white pillow, Nia’s head slowly turned toward him. Her eyes were open—clear, conscious, and filled with tears.
