Chapter 4: The Ambush in the Dark**
The storm hit at midnight. Thunder rattled the reinforced plexiglass windows, drowning out the hum of the fluorescent lights. When the power flickered and plunged the lower corridors into emergency red lighting, the heavy iron bolt on the utility closet clicked open.
Kane slipped through the shadows toward the laundry supply room where Arthur was finishing inventory. In Kane's right hand was a sharpened six-inch steel bolt wrapped in electrical tape.
He kicked the door open, lunging forward with animal speed. "You think you're better than me, old man?!"
Arthur didn't run. He turned around calmly, holding nothing but a bundle of clean white sheets. Kane gripped the weapon, his breathing ragged, his chest heaving under the crimson glow of the emergency lamps.
"Do what you came to do, Kane," Arthur said quietly. His voice didn't waver a single decibel. "If taking another life fills the hole inside you, go ahead."
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Kane froze. His blade was two inches from Arthur’s throat. His hand shook—not from weakness, but from an overwhelming surge of suffocating memory.
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