Chapter 7 - The Breached Sanctuary
"Get them under the table! Now!" Min-hyuk hissed into the dark.
Su-ah didn't hesitate. Grabbing the basket with the sleeping twin, she slipped beneath the heavy stainless-steel examination table, pulling the second infant tightly against her chest. She clamped her hand over the baby’s mouth, gentle but firm, knowing instinctively that their lives depended on utter silence.
Red laser sights cut through the dusty clinic air, slicing like blades through the gloom. A smoke grenade bounced into the room, hissing an acrid, blinding white fog that coated their throats with sulfur.
Min-hyuk moved like a ghost. He dropped low, sliding behind the metal medicine cabinets. He didn't fire blindly into the smoke; he waited for the red lasers to cross his field of vision. When the first beam swept across the operating table where Dae-hyun’s wife lay, Min-hyuk rose.
Two rapid, suppressed thuds echoed in the narrow room. The first operative dropped with a wet thud, his laser beam wildly swinging toward the ceiling before going dark. Min-hyuk snatched the fallen man's carbine mid-air, sweeping the corridor outside with controlled three-round bursts. Screams erupted from the hallway as Song’s elite hit squad found their ambush turned into a meat grinder.
Dr. Han was curled into a fetal position behind the sink, praying in frantic, terrified whispers.
"Han! Keep her heart beating!" Min-hyuk roared over the sound of incoming suppressive fire. Bullets shredded the drywall, sending clouds of chalk and insulation floating down like toxic snow. "If she dies, your life ends the same second!"
Min-hyuk pushed forward, pressing into the narrow corridor to prevent the attackers from tossing an explosive into the surgical room. He was a whirlwind of violent precision, eliminating two more heavily armored men with surgical headshots. But there were too many. Song had spared no expense; these weren't street brawlers, they were mercenary contract killers.
A sudden flare of pain exploded across Min-hyuk’s left side. A bullet had bypassed his vest, tearing a hot furrow through his lower ribs. He grunted, stumbling against the doorframe, his vision blurring momentarily with white-hot agony.
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Down the hallway, through the lingering haze of gun smoke, a silhouette stepped forward, unhurried and terrifyingly confident. It was Chairman Song himself, flanked by his personal bodyguard—a hulking mute known only as The Butcher.
"Did you really think you could play family, little Min-hyuk?" Song's mocking voice echoed over the groans of the dying. "Your brother had the same soft heart. And look where it got him."
