Chapter 4 - The Orderly in the Hall
The private wing of the hospital was supposed to be impenetrable, but as Elena and Dante stood over the vibrating monitor, they both realized the enemy was already inside.
"Vane," Dante hissed, his face twisting into a mask of pure, lethal rage. He pulled his weapon from his holster, the metallic slide clicking back with a terrifying sound. "I'll kill him myself."
"No!" Elena yelled, stepping between Dante and the door. "If you kill him now, you’ll never know who paid him. And if you start a shootout in this hospital, my patient will die in the crossfire. We need to find out who actually hung that syringe."
Dante stared at her, his chest heaving, his weapon pointed at the floor. He slowly lowered the gun, though his grip remained tight. "How do we find out?"
"The syringe pump has an internal log," Elena said, pointing to the small, computerized device attached to the IV pole. "It records the exact second a medication is programmed. We can cross-reference that with the hallway security cameras."
Dante immediately reached for his phone, dialing a number. "Marcus. Get the security chief of this hospital in his office. Now. Tell him if he doesn't give us the feed from the eighth floor for the last hour, I’ll have his house burned down with his family inside."
He hung up, looking at Elena. "Stay here. Don't let anyone in. I don't care if they wear a white coat or a police badge. If anyone tries to cross that door, use this."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, silver-plated pocket knife, placing it in her hand. It was light, sharp, and cold.
"I don't know how to use this," Elena whispered.
"Aim for the soft spot under the jaw," Dante said simply. "I’ll be back in five minutes."
Dante slipped out of the room, leaving Elena alone in the quiet suite.
The only sound was the rhythmic hum of the ventilator and the soft, steady beep of the heart monitor, which was finally beginning to slow down as the toxic vasodilator cleared Luca’s system.
Elena walked to the bedside. She looked down at Luca Vescari. Without the terrifying aura of his power, he looked younger, almost vulnerable. His dark hair was brushed back from his forehead, and a thick, dark beard covered his strong jawline. He had a long, silver scar running across his left cheekbone—a souvenir from some long-forgotten battle.
"Why are they trying so hard to kill you?" she whispered to him.
Suddenly, the handle of the private door turned.
Elena froze, her hand instantly tightening around the silver pocket knife in her pocket.
The door opened slowly. A young man in the blue scrubs of a hospital orderly entered, carrying a large plastic bin filled with clean linen. He had a surgical mask pulled high over his nose and a paper cap tucked low over his forehead.
"Linen change," he said, his voice flat, muffled by the mask.
"We don't need a linen change," Elena said, her voice shaking slightly. She stepped back, keeping the bed between herself and the orderly. "The patient is resting. Please leave."
"It’s on the schedule," the orderly insisted. He took a step closer, setting the linen bin down on the table beside the bed.
Elena noticed his hands. He was wearing latex gloves, but beneath the gloves, his wrists were thick, covered in dark hair and a small, fading tattoo of a black serpent.
No hospital orderly has wrists like that, Elena thought, her heart hammering.
She looked toward the door. Dante’s guard was gone.
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"I said, leave," Elena said, her voice rising.
The orderly didn't answer. Instead, he reached into the linen bin. But he didn't pull out a sheet. He pulled out a heavy, silenced pistol.
