Chapter 9 - The Siege Begins
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The hospital corridors, usually filled with the quiet hum of medical machines and soft footsteps, transformed into a heavily fortified bunker.
Wade’s men moved with terrifying efficiency, barricading the stairwells with heavy supply carts and locking down the elevators. They established a hard perimeter around the surgical wing. There were only twenty of Wade’s enforcers inside the building, but they were the elite.
“They’re coming through the loading dock!” Silas yelled into his radio, monitoring the security feeds from a hijacked hospital terminal.
Wade stood at the end of the main hallway, a sleek, suppressed assault rifle resting against his shoulder. He wore no tactical gear, just his ruined dress shirt and tie, but he looked like the deadliest man on earth.
“Keep Audrey in the secure room. If anyone gets past me, shoot them,” Wade ordered his personal bodyguard, who nodded grimly and stepped inside the waiting room, locking the heavy wooden door.
The first wave of Bratva soldiers breached the third-floor stairwell.
They expected resistance, but they didn't expect Wade Mercer standing directly in their path.
Wade didn't hesitate. He opened fire with surgical precision. The suppressed weapon spit deadly rounds, dropping the first three Russian operatives before they could even raise their weapons. The sterile white walls were instantly painted crimson.
“Hold the line!” Silas roared, engaging from a flanking position near the nurse’s station.
The firefight was deafening, terrifying chaos. The smell of gunpowder and blood overwhelmed the scent of antiseptic. Wade moved with cold, mechanical fury. He wasn't fighting for territory or money anymore. He was fighting for the tiny, fragile life currently lying on an operating table fifty feet behind him.
A Russian mercenary managed to dive behind a flipped medical cart, aiming an automatic pistol directly at the operating room doors.
Wade didn't think. He abandoned his cover, sprinting across the open hallway, completely exposing himself to enemy fire.
He tackled the mercenary to the tile floor, driving his knee brutally into the man’s chest. The Russian gasped, dropping the weapon. Wade didn't show mercy. He drew his combat knife and ended the threat silently, standing back up covered in his enemy’s blood.
“They’re retreating!” Silas shouted, reloading his weapon. “The first wave is broken!”
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Wade breathed heavily, his eyes fixed on the heavy red lights of the operating theater. They had survived the first assault, but Roman would send more.
Suddenly, Wade’s phone vibrated in his pocket.
