Chapter 4 - Blood on the Wall
The sterile smell of the hospital room suddenly felt suffocating. I stood up so fast my metal chair scraped loudly against the linoleum floor.
"Explain. Now," I ordered, stepping toward Marcus and backing him slightly toward the locked door.
"Twenty minutes ago, a clean-up crew checked into our logistics hub on 4th Street," Marcus reported, his voice tight with controlled panic. "They bypassed the security grid using an override code we haven't seen in five years—an internal code, Boss. Someone inside our inner circle sold us out."
Clara tried to sit up, her face draining of what little color remained. "Ethan... they found us. They tracked us through the pharmacy records when I bought Leo's asthma medication last month."
"Nobody tracks my blood," I said, my voice cold enough to freeze boiling water. I turned back to Marcus. "What was the message?"
Marcus swallowed hard, hesitating for a fraction of a second before speaking. "They wrote: 'The boy is the key to the kingdom. Bring us the heir, or we carve him out piece by piece.' Boss, they know. Somehow, they connected Leo to you."
My fists clenched so tightly my knuckles turned white. For ten years, I had maintained absolute control over my domain. I had crushed cartels, outsmarted federal task forces, and eliminated every rival who dared challenge my authority in Manhattan. But the thought of those monsters touching Leo—touching my flesh and blood—unleashed a primal rage I had never experienced before.
"Get our tactical teams on high alert," I commanded, pulling out my encrypted satellite phone. "Mobilize forty men. Secure every perimeter within a ten-block radius of this hospital. I want snipers on the roof, checkpoint sweeps on every intersection, and I want the entire Morosco inner circle put under 24-hour surveillance."
"Done," Marcus nodded, tapping his own earpiece. "Vector team is already deploying. But Boss... St. Jude’s is a public facility. We can't lock it down like a fortress without drawing local police and federal attention. If the Morosco hit squad decides to kick these doors down, we're fighting with one hand tied behind our backs."
"Then we don't wait for them to kick the doors down," I said, sliding my phone back into my pocket.
I turned back to Clara. She was watching me, tears streaming down her pale cheeks, her eyes filled with a mixture of terror and overwhelming relief.
"You're safe here for the next thirty minutes," I told her, softening my tone just a fraction as I placed a reassuring hand over her cold fingers. "I'm going to put my personal detail outside this door—fourteen of my absolute best men. Nobody gets in, nobody gets out, and nobody touches you or Leo."
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"Ethan, where are you going?" she asked, her grip tightening on my sleeve.
"To pay a visit to the man who thinks he can put a price on my son's head," I replied, my eyes flashing with a cold, predatory light. "Don't move. I'll be back before Leo wakes up."
