Chapter 7 - The Hostage
The heavy armored SUV tore through the dark, deserted streets of Chicago like a massive, unstoppable bullet.
I gripped the leather steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned entirely white, my vision blurring with terrified, desperate tears.
My sweet, innocent brother Tyler was lying defenseless in a hospital bed with a failing heart, completely at the mercy of absolute monsters.
Dominic was aggressively wrapping a pressure bandage around his bleeding torso, his jaw clenched in silent, furious determination.
"I swear on my life, Clara, we will get your brother out of that hospital alive," Dominic vowed, his dark eyes burning with deadly intent.
He pulled two heavily loaded pistols from the hidden weapons compartment in the dashboard, checking the magazines with practiced, lethal precision.
"The Moretti family is desperate because they are losing the turf war, and taking Tyler is a pathetic, cowardly move," Dominic explained coldly.
We screeched to a violent halt in the loading dock of Chicago General Hospital, completely ignoring the blaring security alarms.
I grabbed one of the heavy pistols from Dominic's hand, entirely ignoring his surprised expression as I racked the slide perfectly.
Growing up on the rough side of the city with no father had taught me a few brutal survival skills of my own.
We rushed through the abandoned service elevator, ascending rapidly to the intensive care unit on the fourth floor.
The usually bustling hospital corridor was eerily silent, the nursing staff nowhere to be found in the dimly lit hallway.
Dominic led the way, his weapon raised, clearing each corner with the terrifying efficiency of a man who had fought a hundred wars.
We finally reached Room 412, Tyler's designated recovery suite, and I kicked the heavy wooden door completely open.
The hospital bed was entirely empty, the heart monitors disconnected and violently thrown onto the sterile linoleum floor.
A small, terrifying device was strapped securely to the oxygen tank near the wall, blinking rapidly with a bright, digital red countdown timer.
We had exactly ten seconds before the entire hospital wing was reduced to a mountain of burning rubble and ash.
Dominic grabbed me aggressively by the waist, throwing us both backward out of the room just as the bomb violently detonated.
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The massive explosion shattered every window on the floor, sending a deafening shockwave of fire and destruction tearing through the hallway.
Through the thick, choking smoke, my phone vibrated with a single, untraceable text message containing a set of GPS coordinates.
