Chapter 1 - The Hidden Device
The cold metal object resting in my trembling palm was no larger than a standard computer flash drive.
It featured a tiny, blinking red light and a micro-tube leading directly into the port of Owen’s central IV line.
I stared at the device, my heart slamming against my ribs as the horrifying realization washed over me.
Someone had bypassed the hospital’s secure medical equipment to pump an untraceable, continuous stream of paralyzing sedatives straight into his bloodstream.
Owen was not in a natural coma at all.
He had been intentionally kept as a helpless prisoner inside his own body for two agonizing years.
His dark eyes were wide and frantic as he looked from the device in my hand to the heavy oak door of his private suite.
The sheer vulnerability in the gaze of New York's most feared crime boss was entirely unsettling.
His voice was a dry, raspy whisper when he finally spoke again.
"Put it in your pocket right now."
I quickly shoved the cold metal device deep into the pocket of my blue hospital scrubs.
My hands were shaking so violently that I nearly dropped it on the polished marble floor.
"Who did this to you?"
I asked the question with a voice that was barely audible over the hum of the ventilation system.
Owen planted his palms against the mattress and tried to sit up.
His atrophied muscles immediately betrayed him, causing him to sink heavily back into the pillows with a frustrated groan.
"The people who pay that guard standing outside my door."
A terrifying, icy coldness rapidly spread through my veins.
The massive, armed bodyguard stationed in the hallway was supposedly hired by the Hartley family to protect Owen from rival criminal syndicates.
If the family's own security detail was in on this conspiracy, there was absolutely no one in the hospital we could trust.
I realized with a sickening twist in my stomach that I was now a primary witness to an ongoing assassination attempt.
Before I could formulate a plan, a sharp, piercing electronic beep echoed from the primary medical monitor beside the bed.
The advanced machine had just detected the sudden, drastic drop in the sedative's chemical flow.
A bright red warning light began flashing aggressively across the digital screen.
Owen squeezed his eyes shut instantly.
He forced his chest to rise and fall in a slow, rhythmic pattern, desperately trying to mimic a deep comatose state.
"Pretend you are just cleaning the floor."
He issued the desperate order through barely parted lips just as the doorknob began to turn.
I lunged toward my cleaning cart and grabbed the heavy wooden handle of my mop.
I dipped it frantically into the bucket of soapy water just as the heavy oak door to Suite 914 violently swung open.
The massive bodyguard stepped aggressively into the room.
His thick hand was resting menacingly on the textured grip of a suppressed pistol holstered at his waist.
He stared intently at the flashing red warning light on the medical monitor for several tense seconds.
Then, he turned his cold, dead eyes slowly toward me.
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"What exactly did you just do to his machine?"
He demanded an answer while smoothly drawing his deadly weapon from its leather holster.
