Chapter 3 - The Eastport ExtractionThe storm was reaching its peak as Leo's convoy of three black armored SUVs sped north along the coast toward Eastport. Rain lashed against the windshields, and distant lightning illuminated the churning dark waters of the Atlantic Ocean.
In the backseat of the lead vehicle sat Leo, Marco, and young Willow Bennett.
Leo had initially insisted that Clara and Willow remain safe at the estate, but Willow had held up a small, handwritten map she had copied from the documents in the laundry bag.
"I know which room they put the special babies in, Mr. Romano," Willow had said firmly, looking him straight in the eye. "My mom used to work night shifts at Eastport before it closed. I know the layout of the basement."
Looking at the fierce, brave intelligence in the nine-year-old girl's eyes, Leo had realized that this child had more honor and courage than every billionaire sitting on his corporate board.
"Keep her behind us at all times," Leo had instructed Marco. "If anything goes wrong, you get her out first."
Now, as the convoy pulled into the darkened, overgrown driveway of the Eastport Private Clinic, Leo checked his weapon one last time. The building was a gloomy, three-story brick structure overlooking the rocky cliffs of the bay. A single light flickered on the ground floor.
"Thermal scopes show four men in the lobby and two near the back medical bay," Marco reported from his tactical tablet. "No heavy armor, but they are carrying automatic weapons."
"We move silently," Leo commanded. "Victor wants a clean transition of power at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. He doesn't know we have the logs. Surprise is our advantage."
The men stepped out into the pouring rain, moving like shadows across the slick grass. Leo held Willow’s small hand, guiding her safely behind Marco’s massive frame as they approached the rear service entrance.
With a swift, practiced kick, Marco breached the heavy steel door.
The team flooded inside!
"Security!" a guard shouted from the end of the tiled hallway, reaching for his rifle!
THWACK! THWACK!
Marco fired two silenced shots, dropping the guard before his alarm could echo through the building. The rest of Leo's team moved through the corridors with terrifying efficiency, neutralizing Victor's hired mercenaries one by one in absolute silence.
Within three minutes, the building was secure.
"Basement stairs are this way," Willow whispered, pointing toward a heavy wooden door at the end of the main hallway.
Leo followed the little girl down a flight of narrow concrete steps into a dimly lit medical ward. The air smelled of old rubbing alcohol, damp concrete, and stale air.
At the far end of the room, sitting under a heat lamp inside a modern portable incubator, was a tiny baby.
Leo dropped his weapon into its holster and ran forward.
His hands trembled violently as he looked through the clear acrylic hood of the incubator. Inside lay a small, delicate baby boy, wearing a plain white onesie. On his tiny wrist was a blue plastic hospital tag: PATIENT NINE.
Leo opened the incubator hatch. Very gently, slipping his large, calloused hands beneath the baby's back and head, he lifted his son into his arms for the very first time.
The infant stirred, opening tiny, dark blue eyes—the exact shade and shape of Leo’s own—and let out a soft, high-pitched squeak, snuggling instinctively against Leo’s warm chest.
Tears, hot and unstoppable, spilled down Leo’s face. He held his son tightly against his heart, feeling the steady, delicate beat of the life he thought he had lost forever.
"I have you, my boy," Leo whispered, his voice choking with raw emotion. "Papa has you."
Willow stepped up beside him, looking into the incubator with a warm, triumphant smile. "He looks just like you, Mr. Romano."
Leo looked down at the little girl who had saved his family from total destruction. He reached out with one hand, gently touching her shoulder.
"You saved him, Willow," Leo said, his voice thick with gratitude. "You gave me my son back."
Before Willow could answer, the heavy steel door at the top of the basement stairs burst open!
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"Well, well, well," a harsh, mocking voice echoed down the concrete stairwell. "Look at the happy family reunion."
Leo turned around, shielding his baby behind his body as Victor Romano stepped into the dim light of the basement, holding a heavy revolver, flanked by four armed men.
