Chapter 5 - Out of the Shadows
"Can you neutralize it?"
Lincoln’s voice was remarkably calm, given the fact that he was currently looking at a death sentence ticking away in his own bloodstream.
Delia was already rifling through her mother’s medical bag, her mind racing through her years of pharmacology training. "It's a snake-venom derivative, likely mixed with an anticoagulant. It's rare, but I've seen it once before when a patient was brought into Mercy General after a gang dispute in the lower districts. I need high-dose vitamin K to promote clotting, a broad-spectrum antivenom, and a localized antibiotic flush."
"Do you have them?"
"I have the basics in my bag, but not enough to flush your system completely," Delia said, her voice tight with panic. "I need access to a hospital pharmacy. But you said you can't go to a hospital."
"Going to a hospital right now would be suicide," Lincoln said, his voice cold. "The Morettis have eyes on every medical center in the city. If they find out I'm poisoned, they'll storm the building."
"Then we have to get the supplies ourselves," Delia said. "I still have my old security card for Mercy General. It hasn't been deactivated yet—the administration is too disorganized to update the database until the end of the month. I can slip into the pharmacy, get what we need, and get back."
"No," Lincoln said instantly. "It's too dangerous."
"It's your only chance, Lincoln!" she shouted, her frustration boiling over. "In twelve hours, you'll start internal bleeding. In eighteen, your lungs will fill with blood. You saved my life last night, and you're offering to save my niece. Let me save yours."
Lincoln stared at her, his dark eyes burning with an emotion she couldn't quite define. It was a mixture of respect, fear for her safety, and something deeper—something that looked dangerously like affection.
"If you go," Lincoln said, "you don't go alone. Bruno will drive you. But you stay in the car until he clears the area."
"Deal," Delia said, already packing her bag.
Thirty minutes later, the black sedan was tearing through the rain-slicked streets of Hadley. The sky had turned to a deep, bruised purple as evening approached. In the back seat, Delia clutched her old hospital ID badge, her hands shaking.
"We're three blocks away," Bruno said from the front seat, his eyes constantly checking the rearview mirror. "Something is wrong. There are too many cars idling near the entrance."
"It's shift change," Delia said. "It's always busy now."
"No," Bruno muttered. "Those aren't hospital staff. Those are Moretti scouts."
Before Delia could respond, her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was an unknown number. She pressed it to her ear.
"Delia?"
The voice was young, terrified, and instantly recognizable.
"Naomi!" Delia gasped, her heart leaping into her throat. "Naomi, where are you? Are you okay?"
"Auntie Delia..." Naomi sobbed. "A or B... the men with the guns... they said I have to play a game..."
"Naomi!" Delia screamed.
Another voice came over the line—cold, cultured, and dripping with malice. "Miss Hart. I believe you have something that belongs to me. Or rather, someone."
"Who is this?" Delia demanded, tears spilling over her eyelashes. "If you touch her, I swear to God—"
"I am Marcus Moretti," the voice said smoothly. "And I don't care about your threats, nurse. Your little niece is currently sitting in a warehouse at Pier 14. She is very cold, and very scared. If you want to see her alive again, you are going to do exactly what I say."
"What do you want?"
"Lincoln Frost is poisoned," Moretti said, a chuckle vibrating through the line. "Our inside man, Garrett, confirmed the delivery before he was captured. I know you are currently trying to get the antidote. Here is the deal, Miss Hart: You will collect the medicine, but you will not give it to him. You will bring it to Pier 14. If Lincoln Frost is not dead by midnight, your niece will take his place in the river."
The line went dead.
Delia stared at the phone, her breath coming in ragged, suffocating gasps. The world seemed to tilt on its axis.
"Delia?" Bruno asked, his voice sharp with concern. "What did they say?"
"They... they have Naomi," Delia whispered, her face pale as snow. "They have her at Pier 14. They want me to let Lincoln die. If I give him the antidote, they'll kill her."
Bruno slammed his hand against the steering wheel, cursing loudly. "We have to go back. We have to tell the boss."
"No!" Delia cried. "If we go back, Lincoln will die of the poison, and they'll kill Naomi anyway! We have to get the medicine first!"
"And then what?" Bruno asked, looking at her in the rearview mirror. "Are you going to betray him to save your niece?"
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Delia looked down at her hands. She loved Naomi more than her own life. She had promised her dying sister that she would protect the little girl no matter what. But as she thought of Lincoln Frost—the man who had looked at her with such raw vulnerability, the man who had offered her sanctuary when she had nothing—she knew she couldn't let him die either.
"I'm going to save them both," Delia said, her voice turning to steel. "Drive to the hospital, Bruno. Now."
