Chapter 6 - The Fall of the Fortress
Thick gray smoke filled the sterile hallway of the underground clinic, setting off blaring alarms.
Armed mercenaries flooded into the facility, carrying heavy assault rifles and wearing tactical gear.
The Volkov cartel had tracked Daniel’s vehicle, and they had brought a small army to finish the job.
Walter pushed the surgeon to the ground, firing his revolver over the doctor's head to cover Carrie.
"Get her into the surgical theater and lock the reinforced doors!" Walter screamed at the medical staff.
The nurses scrambled, pushing Carrie’s stretcher frantically down the corridor away from the gunfire.
Margaret stood in the center of the hallway, holding a small pistol with unwavering, terrifying calm.
She shot a Russian mercenary perfectly between the eyes, stepping over his body without missing a beat.
Carrie was wheeled into the operating room, and the heavy titanium doors sealed shut behind her.
The sound of the war outside was instantly muffled, leaving only the steady beep of her failing heart monitor.
"Her blood pressure is dangerously high, prepare the anesthesia," the surgeon ordered, snapping on his gloves.
Carrie grabbed the doctor's arm, her fingernails digging painfully into his sleeve.
"Save my baby," Carrie pleaded, her vision blurring as the medication flooded her veins.
"We will do everything we can, Mrs. Marino," the doctor promised gently.
Carrie closed her eyes, letting the darkness consume her as the cold scalpel touched her skin.
Outside the operating room, the situation was rapidly deteriorating into a bloodbath.
Walter had been shot in the thigh, bleeding heavily as he continued to reload behind a metal desk.
Daniel was out of ammunition, resorting to fighting a mercenary in brutal hand-to-hand combat.
Margaret’s gun clicked empty, and a towering Russian soldier stepped forward to execute her.
Before the soldier could pull his trigger, a massive black van crashed directly through the brick wall of the clinic.
The impact crushed three mercenaries instantly, sending a wave of dust and brick across the room.
The back doors of the van kicked open, revealing a severely battered Dominic Marino holding a stolen assault rifle.
He had broken his own thumbs to slip out of the zip-ties, and he had slaughtered his captors inside the vehicle.
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Dominic stepped out of the wreckage, looking like a terrifying demon summoned from the depths of hell.
"Nobody touches my family," Dominic roared, raising the weapon to his shoulder.
