Chapter 3 - The Sanctuary Under SiegeBefore Damian could issue orders to his enforcers outside, the low, electronic hum of the hospital’s central ventilation system cut out.
The overhead fluorescent lights flickered once, twice, and then plunged the entire fourth floor into deep, amber-tinted emergency backup lighting.
“Boss,” Elias’s voice crackled through the encrypted earpiece in Damian’s ear. “We’ve got movement in the stairwells. Not police. Professionals. Thermal scopes show at least six armed men moving up from the third floor. They’ve cut the power grids.”
Damian’s hand flew to his holster, his Glock clearing leather with a sharp metallic whisper.
“They’re coming back to finish the job,” Damian said, his eyes locking onto the heavy wooden door of room 412.
“They’ll use flashbangs to clear the hallways,” Clara stated instantly, standing up with surprising agility despite her aching muscles. She kicked off her heavy rubber cleaning clogs, leaving her stockinged feet free for silent movement. “If they breach this door, the blast will shatter the monitors and disorient you in seconds.”
“What do you suggest, Sergeant?” Damian asked, dropping all corporate pretense, recognizing military pragmatism when he saw it.
“We don’t wait for them to breach,” Clara said, her eyes scanning the room. She pointed to the heavy oxygen tanks stationed beside Leo’s bed. “We vent the main oxygen line into the hallway through the gap under the door. One stray spark from their breaching charges, and the whole hallway becomes a fuel-air bomb.”
“No,” Damian interrupted sharply, shaking his head. “My son is in this room. We can’t risk an explosion near the child.”
“Then we set a choke point,” Clara countered, her voice absolute. “The bathroom doorway. It’s reinforced concrete block. You and your lead guard take the left flank with rifles. I’ll take the right with the mop handle and the scalpel set from the surgical tray.”
Damian looked at her, stunned by her tactical audacity. For a fraction of a second, he considered ordering her into the closet, but looking at the unyielding steel in her posture, he knew she wouldn't budge.
“Elias!” Damian spoke into his comms. “Fall back to room 412. Form a crossfire at the bathroom threshold. Let them walk into the killing floor.”
Outside in the hallway, the heavy sound of combat boots approached with terrifying speed.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
A metallic canister clattered against the linoleum just outside room 412. A flashbang.
“Eyes shut! Ears open!” Clara shouted, dropping low to the floor.
BOOM.
A blinding white flash illuminated the cracks in the door frame, accompanied by a concussive shockwave that rattled the glass windows.
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Before the smoke could even clear, the heavy wooden door was blown inward by a secondary explosive charge. Splinters rained across the room as three black-clad operatives poured through the entrance, assault rifles raised, scanning for targets.
They walked right into the meat grinder.
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