Chapter 13 - The Ambush at the Clinic
The downtown Chicago pediatric clinic was a sanctuary of healing. Luca had fully funded the state-of-the-art facility, dedicating it to Hannah’s brilliant work as a former physical therapist, ensuring no child would ever lack top-tier medical care.
Hannah was in the rehabilitation wing, smiling warmly as she helped a young boy take his first steps on the parallel bars. Her gentle, encouraging voice filled the bright, colorful room. Four of Luca’s elite syndicate enforcers stood guard outside the glass doors, scanning the hallways with vigilant, professional precision.
Everything felt entirely normal.
Then, without a single warning sound, the entire building plunged into absolute darkness.
The cheerful hum of medical machines died instantly. The backup generators, which should have kicked in within three seconds, remained completely dead. The electronic lockdown doors slammed shut, sealing the pediatric floor off from the rest of the hospital.
Hannah froze, her maternal instincts instantly overriding her panic. She pulled the young boy into her arms, shielding his fragile body against her chest as the emergency red strobe lights began flashing silently in the hallway.
"Stay quiet, sweetheart," Hannah whispered, backing slowly into the darkest corner of the therapy room.
Outside the glass doors, the muffled sound of suppressed gunfire echoed through the corridor. Pfft. Pfft. Pfft. Heavy tactical boots stomped across the linoleum.
Hannah’s breath hitched in her throat. She knew that sound. She had survived the terrifying night Marcus's men invaded the Moretti estate three years ago. She knew the unmistakable rhythm of professional mercenaries hunting a target.
Two men dressed in full black tactical gear, wearing heavy ballistic masks, stepped into the corridor outside the therapy room. They stepped right over the bodies of Luca’s unconscious guards. One of the mercenaries held a heavy assault rifle, sweeping a red laser sight through the dark rooms.
"Sweep the rehabilitation wing," a cold, raspy voice commanded through a radio. "The Obsidian Syndicate wants the Queen alive. Kill everyone else."
Hannah’s heart pounded violently against her ribs. She was unarmed. She was trapped in a locked wing with a disabled child. And a highly trained tactical hit squad was methodically clearing the rooms, moving closer to her location with every passing second.
She looked frantically around the dim room. Her eyes landed on the heavy, pressurized oxygen tanks securely strapped to the medical carts near the door.
Hannah wasn't just a simple waitress anymore. She was the wife of the most dangerous man in Chicago, and she absolutely refused to be a victim again.
She gently set the boy behind a heavy steel filing cabinet. "Do not move until I come back for you," she instructed him with a fierce, unwavering whisper.
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Hannah crawled silently across the floor, grabbing a heavy metal wrench from the physical therapy maintenance toolkit. She waited in the shadows, her muscles coiled tight, as the door handle to the therapy room began to turn.
👉 Hannah is cornered in the dark by heavily armed mercenaries, but what shocking, brilliant trap is she about to unleash on them?
