Chapter 5 - The Ambush at St. Jude's
Eleanor threw the car into overdrive, tires screaming against the asphalt as she raced toward St. Jude’s Hospital. Panic clawed at her throat. The boy—her baby, Leo—was being taken from her for the second time in his life, and this time she wouldn't survive it.
She abandoned the car at the emergency bay entrance, running past startled nurses and security officers. In the fourth-floor corridor, chaos reigned. Two hospital guards lay sprawled against the linoleum, clutching bruised jaws. Room 412 was empty. The IV drip was torn from its stand, saline dripping steadily onto the cold floor.
""Marcus!"" Eleanor yelled, spotting the doctor leaning against the nursing station, holding a bloodied cloth to his temple.
""They took the service elevator to the sub-basement delivery bay,"" Marcus groaned, pointing toward the end of the hall. ""Black tactical gear. No badges, just forged court orders. Julian was already waiting down there.""
Eleanor bolted down the concrete stairwell, taking the steps three at a time. Bursting into the cavernous concrete loading dock, the roar of an idling diesel engine assaulted her ears. A black, unmarked van had its rear doors swung wide. A large man was carrying the shivering child wrapped in a blanket.
""Let him go!"" Eleanor screamed, picking up a heavy steel wrench from a maintenance cart and sprinting forward.
The man turned, startled. Taking advantage of the distraction, the boy suddenly bit hard into the man’s forearm. The kidnapper cursed, loosening his grip. The boy tumbled onto the concrete, scrambling backward toward Eleanor.
""Run, kid!"" Eleanor shouted, hurling the wrench with all her strength at the van's windshield, spidering the glass with a loud thud.
A hand grabbed Eleanor’s hair from behind, violently yanking her back. Arthur Sterling stood behind her, his face twisted into an ugly, cold grimace.
""You should have let the boy drown eight years ago, Eleanor,"" Arthur whispered into her ear. ""The Vance estate was supposed to merge with our holding company cleanly. Julian was weak; he couldn't kill his own blood himself.""
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A sharp horn blared. A battered pickup truck smashed through the loading dock's security gate, slamming directly into the side of the kidnappers' van. The driver’s door kicked open, and an older woman with wild silver hair and an iron bar stepped out into the glare of the headlights.
It was Clara.
