Chapter 2 - The Paralytic Web
The private ICU on the top floor of Saint Jude's Memorial Hospital was secured like a military fortress.
Four of my heaviest enforcers stood guard at the elevator doors, armed with suppressed submachine guns beneath their heavy overcoats. Down the hallway, two state troopers sat at a desk, looking nervous, well aware that the chief of police had personally authorized my private security detail to oversee the wing.
Inside the glass room, Elena lay hooked up to intravenous lines, a ventilator assisting her frail, shallow breathing. Her mother, Rosa, sat beside the bed, holding her daughter’s limp fingers, while Tomas stood near the window, staring out at the gray Queens skyline.
Dr. Aris—a former military surgeon who had treated my men for a decade—stepped out of the room, pulling off his latex gloves.
"How is she?" I asked, standing in the hallway with Bruno resting his chin against my knee.
"It's a miracles she's alive, Leo," Dr. Aris breathed, rubbing his exhausted eyes. "The toxin they used is a synthetic derivative of tetrodotoxin—the same venom found in blowfish. In controlled doses, it mimics brain death, slowing metabolic function to near zero. If your dog hadn't heard her micro-respirations through the wood, she would have suffered brain damage within another six hours from oxygen deprivation."
I squeezed my eyes shut for a brief moment, breathing out a slow, steadying breath. "Can you flush it out?"
"We're running a continuous dialysis protocol," Aris nodded. "The toxin is breaking down. Her heart rate is up to forty beats per minute. She should wake up within twenty-four hours. But..." He hesitated, looking at me cautiously.
"Speak, Doctor," I commanded.
"Whoever administered this knew exactly what they were doing," Aris said low. "This isn't street-level stuff, Leo. This is pharmaceutical grade. It came from a high-end lab."
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw Tony’s name on the caller ID.
"Talk to me," I said.
"Boss," Tony’s voice came through the speaker, crisp and tense. "We checked the coroner who signed Elena’s death certificate—Dr. Samuel Sterling. His apartment in Long Island City is empty. He tried to board a flight to Saint Thomas an hour ago."
"Did he make the plane?" I asked flatly.
"My boys picked him up at the gate," Tony replied. "We've got him down in the basement with Marco. He's talking, Leo. He's talking fast."
"I'm on my way," I said, disconnecting the call.
I turned to Tomas Vasquez, who had stepped out into the hallway, his face haggard but filled with a glowing, desperate hope.
"She’s going to live, Tomas," I said gently. "My doctor is staying right outside this door. No one gets in or out without my personal authorization."
Tomas grabbed my coat sleeve, his knuckles turning white. "Leo... what are you going to do to the men who did this?"
May you like
I looked down at Bruno, whose ears perked up at the tone of my voice.
"I'm going to tear Victor Harlan’s empire down to the bedrock," I said softly. "And then I'm going to feed what's left to my dog."
