Chapter 1 - The Blood on the Linoleum
The loud crack of gunshots echoed through the clinical hallways of Lenox Hill Hospital, followed immediately by the shattering of tempered glass and the frantic, echoing shriek of an alarm system.
Vincent Kane didn't hesitate. He swung his custom Sig Sauer toward the ruined doorway, stepping out into the corridor with the lethal precision of a man who had spent twenty years in war zones.
"Boss! Two targets coming down the north stairwell!" Vincent shouted over the ringing alarms, his weapon barked twice—BANG! BANG!—and a heavy body thudded against the corridor wall outside.
Inside Room 412, Gabriel Moretti remained frozen for half a second. His dark, sharp eyes swept from his unconscious son’s pale face to the woman holding the splintered mop handle. Blood was dripping steadily from Elena’s chin onto the collar of her torn blue uniform. Her knees were visibly trembling, yet her body remained locked in a protective stance, physically blocking any line of sight to Daniel’s bed.
"Put that down before you hurt yourself," Gabriel commanded, his voice dropping into a register of absolute, terrifying calm.
"Not until I know who you are!" Elena spat back, her hoarse voice laced with pure defiance despite the shock setting in. "You came in here with a gun!"
"I am his father," Gabriel said smoothly, taking a slow step forward, holster returning his Glock to his leather jacket in a single fluid motion. "And right now, you are the only person in this building I don't intend to kill."
Gabriel reached out, his large, leather-gloved hand gently taking hold of the broken wooden handle. Elena’s grip was so tight her knuckles were white, but as her mind processed his words—and the undeniable resemblance between Gabriel’s sharp, dark features and the little boy on the bed—the adrenaline keeping her upright finally gave out.
Her eyes rolled back, and her knees buckled.
Before she hit the polished linoleum floor, Gabriel’s arm swept around her waist, catching her effortlessly. She was surprisingly light, smelling faintly of harsh hospital bleach and copper blood. He hoisted her up, placing her gently on the vinyl armchair beside Daniel’s heart monitor, taking note of the deep, dark bruise forming along her ribcage through her torn uniform.
"Vincent!" Gabriel called out toward the doorway.
Vincent stepped back into the room, ejecting a spent magazine and slapping a fresh one into his sidearm. "North hallway clear. Two hitmen down. Professional gear, unmarked weapons, tactical earpieces. This wasn't a random hit, Gabriel. They had internal access."
Gabriel turned to his six-year-old son. Daniel was breathing softly through his oxygen mask, his heart rate gradually stabilizing back into a steady, rhythmic beep on the monitor. Gabriel reached out, his large hand gently stroking Daniel’s dark curls.
"Internal access means someone gave them the security codes to the pediatric wing," Gabriel growled, a vein throbbing at his temple. "Someone paid off my perimeter guards. Who was on duty at the front gate?"
"Marcus and Leo," Vincent answered grimly. "Leo’s dead outside the nurse's station. Marcus is missing."
Gabriel’s jaw set like iron. He looked back at Elena, who was groaning softly, pressing her palm against the bloody gash on her forehead.
"Call Dr. Mercer," Gabriel ordered Vincent. "Tell him to prepare my private medical transport. We are moving Daniel to the safehouse in Westchester within fifteen minutes. And call my personal physician, Dr. Aris. I want him at the estate before we arrive."
Vincent glanced at Elena. "What about the janitor?"
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Gabriel looked down at the bleeding cleaning lady who had faced down armed assassins with nothing but a broken piece of wood.
"She comes with us," Gabriel said quietly. "Whoever sent those men knows she saw their faces. The moment we walk out of this hospital, she becomes a target. I don't leave my debts unpaid, Vincent. She saved my son's life. Now I save hers."
