Chapter 3 - The Traitor's Syringe
At 2:00 a.m. the following night, St. Jude’s Hospital was shrouded in quiet shadow.
Elena was in the fifth-floor pharmacy room, searching through the high-security narcotics cabinet. She held a special keycard granted to her by Matteo, allowing her to pull specialized nerve-recovery meds directly without going through the central hospital requisition desk.
She was sliding a vial of B-complex nerve restorer into her pocket when the heavy fire door at the end of the hallway creaked open.
Elena went silent.
The fifth floor was completely empty at this hour—the outpatient clinics had closed at six.
She stepped behind a metal storage rack, peering through the gaps in the shelves.
A man dressed in blue surgical scrubs and a matching face mask walked into the hallway. He wasn't wearing a hospital badge. In his gloved right hand, he carried a small, velvet-lined case.
Elena watched as he slipped a digital keycard—Dr. Vane’s keycard—into the elevator panel, selecting the ninth floor.
Her blood ran cold.
The ninth floor was guarded, but if the man was wearing medical scrubs and possessed an attending physician’s pass, the guards at the elevator might let him through without question—especially if he claimed it was an emergency consultation.
Elena didn't take the elevator. She sprinted for the service stairwell.
She took the concrete stairs three at a time, her lungs burning, her rubber-soled nursing shoes slapping softly against the steps. Nine floors. Eight. Seven. Her pulse hammered in her ears as she burst through the ninth-floor fire door, slipping into the carpeted hallway just as the central elevator chimed.
The disguised man stepped out of the elevator, walking smoothly toward Suite 901.
“Stop!” Elena shouted, her voice ringing out across the quiet corridor.
The two Vescari guards outside Luca’s door immediately turned, their hands moving into their jackets.
The assassin didn't hesitate. He pulled a silenced pistol from his pocket and fired twice—PTT! PTT!
Both guards collapsed into the thick carpet with chest wounds.
Elena gasped, but instead of running away, she grabbed a heavy, brass fire extinguisher from the wall bracket and charged forward!
The assassin kicked open the door to Suite 901, raising his weapon toward the bed where Luca lay!
“LUCA!” Elena screamed.
She swung the brass extinguisher with all her strength, slamming it straight into the assassin’s shoulder!
The hitman stumbled, his gunshot going wild—PTT!—shattering the glass jug of water on the bedside table!
Before the assassin could recover, a massive, scarred hand shot out from the bed!
Despite his surgical wounds, Luca moved like a strike from a panther. He caught the assassin’s gun-wrist, twisting it violently until the bone snapped with a sickening CRACK!
The hitman screamed, dropping the weapon. Luca pulled the man down onto the bed, locking his throat in a lethal headlock while reaching for the assassin’s dropped velvet case with his free hand.
CLICK.
Matteo and three more guards burst into the room, guns drawn, but the fight was already over.
Luca tossed the coughing, broken assassin onto the carpet at Matteo’s feet like a sack of trash.
“Check his coat,” Luca growled, breathing heavily as Elena rushed to his side, her hands instantly checking his chest bandages for bleeding.
“You’re bleeding, Luca!” Elena gasped, seeing fresh red blooming through his white dressing. “You tore your sutures!”
“I’m fine,” Luca said, his eyes never leaving the assassin on the floor.
Matteo knelt down, pulling a syringe loaded with clear fluid from the assassin’s coat pocket, along with an encrypted satellite burner phone.
Matteo clicked the phone screen on. The last dialed number was saved under a single initial: M.
“Marco,” Matteo whispered, his face turning dark as thunder. “It was Marco.”
Luca looked down at the assassin, his storm-gray eyes devoid of any human mercy. “Where is Dr. Vane?”
The assassin spat blood onto the rug. “Vane... Vane is already at the private airstrip in Teterboro. He got his five million. Marco sent him out of the country an hour ago.”
Luca turned his head slowly to look at Elena. She was kneeling beside his bed, holding a sterile gauze pad firmly against his torn chest wound, her hands covered in his warm blood once again.
Her eyes were wide with shock, but she hadn't run. She hadn't left him.
“Matteo,” Luca commanded quietly.
May you like
“Yes, Lord Vescari?”
“Bring Marco to the warehouse by the river. And clear this hospital.” Luca reached out, his long, warm fingers wrapping gently around Elena’s hand, pulling her up so she stood right beside him. “Miss Marlowe is coming with us. She isn't safe in this city anymore.”
