Chapter 7 - THE SIEGE OF OAK HARBOR
The sound of the flatline was immediately drowned out by the thunder of a shotgun blast tearing through the upper hallway just above our heads.
Plaster rained down from the ceiling vents, coating the shiny steel surfaces of the clinic in a fine white veil.
"She’s gone!"
Dr.
Hayes screamed in sheer panic, grabbing the manual defibrillator paddles from the wall mount.
"Clear the gurney!"
"No!"
Luca roared, his hands gripping Elena’s pale shoulders with desperate, possessive fury.
"You bring her back, Hayes, or I will put you in the ground beside her!
Shock her!"
Hayes slammed the charged pads against Elena’s bare, frail ribs.
Her small body arched off the mattress with a sickening snap.
The monitor stayed flat.
"Again!"
Luca shouted.
Down the hallway, the heavy steel security doors that separated the servant quarters from the main basement shook under the impact of a sledgehammer.
Salvatore Bellini’s men were sweeping the lower levels.
They weren't looking for prisoners.
They were systematically exterminating every living creature inside Oak Harbor to make sure no one could testify about the vault.
"Charging to three hundred!"
Hayes yelled, his hands shaking so violently the metal paddles clattered against each other.
"Clear!"
The second electric pulse ripped through Elena’s chest.
For two excruciating seconds, the room was silent except for the dull thump of boots overhead.
Then, a ragged, metallic beep cut through the monitor’s speaker.
Another beep followed.
Then a weak, irregular rhythm began tracing across the digital green screen.
Elena’s lips twitched.
A tiny, shuddering breath passed through her teeth.
"The pulse is back,"
Hayes whispered, collapsing against the counter, his surgical gown soaked in perspiration.
"The atropine is stabilizing the neural pathways, but she needs intensive life support within the hour, Luca.
Her lungs are filled with fluid."
Luca didn't look relieved.
He pulled his tactical radio from his belt, his knuckles bleeding from where he had scraped them against the doorframe.
"Daniel.
What is your position?"
Static crackled over the small speaker before Daniel’s strained voice responded.
"We’re holding the reinforced vault at the end of the brick corridor, boss.
Carmine and three of our boys made it inside, but Bellini has us pinned with heavy suppressive fire.
They brought thermal optics.
They know you aren't in the vault."
"How many hostiles in the main foyer?"
Luca asked, checking the remaining ammunition in his sidearm.
"At least eight.
Salvatore is directing them from the grand staircase.
He knows the police won't respond for twenty minutes because he bought the third-precinct dispatch."
Luca looked down at Elena, then turned his gaze to me.
I was standing by the saline drip, holding the tube steady against Elena’s bruised arm.
My maid’s uniform was torn at the shoulder, covered in black dust and spots of dried crimson.
"Sophie."
Luca said, stepping close to me.
The terrifying rage in his face was gone, replaced by a dark, unbreakable resolve.
"You saved my sister’s life twice tonight."
"I just did what had to be done for Leo."
I whispered, my good ear straining to track the sounds of footsteps moving down the basement stairs.
Luca reached inside his waistband and pulled out a sleek, compact nine-millimeter pistol.
He took my right hand, placed the heavy weapon into my palm, and wrapped my fingers around the checkered grip.
"Do you know how to use this?"
"No."
I said honestly, my stomach turning to ice.
"You pull this slide backward until it clicks."
He demonstrated with his thumb, his movements fluid and precise.
"You point the front sight at the center of the doorway.
If anyone wearing tactical gear steps through that threshold who isn't me or Daniel, you pull this trigger until it stops clicking.
Do you understand me?"
I looked at the weapon, then looked at Elena’s frail, breathing form on the bed.
If Bellini’s hitmen breached this room, they wouldn't just kill Elena and Luca.
They would hunt down Leo in his hospital room to ensure no Bennett ever testified before a grand jury.
"I understand."
I nodded, gripping the cold steel with both hands.
"Hayes,"
Luca commanded, walking toward the clinic door,
"turn off the overhead fluorescent lights.
Work by the instrument screen."
The doctor hit the wall switch.
The room plunged into an eerie, emerald-tinted twilight cast by the heartbeat monitor.
Luca slipped through the doorway and vanished into the darkness of the subterranean hallway like a phantom.
Thirty seconds passed.
The heavy silence of the basement was broken only by the steady, rhythmic hiss of Elena’s oxygen valve.
Then, from the corridor outside, a man’s voice barked in Italian.
"Check the medical bay!
The Boss wants every corner burned!"
Heavy, tactical boots crunched over shattered lightbulbs right outside our door.
I raised the pistol with both hands, my arms trembling so hard the front sight shook against the dark wooden paneling.
My concussed brain was spinning, but I forced my feet wide to steady my stance.
The polished brass doorknob began to turn.
Slowly.
Silently.
The latch retracted with a soft click.
A tall figure clad in black Kevlar and a ballistic helmet pushed the door inward, the bright red beam of an under-barrel laser sweeping across the medicine cabinets.
The laser dot moved across the floor.
May you like
Across the gurney.
And stopped squarely in the middle of Elena’s forehead.
