Chapter 12 - The Hospital Threat
The screen of Clara’s phone burned with the harsh pixelated light of the live webcam feed. In the small frame, the unidentified nurse in crisp white scrubs leaned over Maya’s hospital bed, pressing the tip of an unlabeled syringe directly toward the intravenous fluid line. Maya was still sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of the lethal danger hovering inches above her arm.
Clara’s breath caught in her throat. The cold corporate armor she had just put on shattered instantly, replaced by raw, frantic terror.
"Rachel, look!" Clara gasped, shoving the phone into Rachel’s hands. "They’re at the hospital. They’re going to silence Maya right now!"
Rachel’s face drained of color as she stared at the screen. "That’s not a random hit; that’s Sinclair’s calling card. He gave you the corporate charter with one hand while holding a gun to your sister’s head with the other to ensure absolute obedience."
Without a moment’s hesitation, Clara sprinted toward the perimeter where the federal investigators were still loading evidence into vans. She spotted Detective Miller—the lead investigator who had overseen Julian’s arrest the previous night—standing near a mobile command unit.
"Detective Miller! You have to call the county hospital immediately!" Clara yelled, breathless as she skidded to a halt in front of him. "There’s an assassin in my sister’s room right now!"
Detective Miller frowned, jotting down a final note on his clipboard before looking up at her with tired, skeptical eyes. "Miss Vance, your sister is under heavy police guard in a secure ward. No one gets in without federal clearance."
"Look at the screen!" Clara shoved her phone into his face, displaying the live feed where the nurse was now pressing the plunger of the syringe downward into the IV port.
Miller’s eyes widened in horror as he recognized the uniform markings of a private security contractor rather than a legitimate medical professional. He grabbed his portable radio, shouting into the channel at the top of his lungs. "All units, St. Jude’s Memorial Hospital, secure Room 402 immediately! Code Red, repeat, Code Red!"
Clara didn’t wait for the police convoy to mobilize. She spotted an unoccupied federal SUV with its keys left casually in the ignition while the driver assisted with evidence loading. Without asking for permission, Clara leaped into the driver’s seat, slammed her foot down on the accelerator, and tore across the lawn, crashing through the remaining crime-scene tape as she rocketed down the winding highway toward the city.
The SUV’s tires shrieked as she took corners on two wheels, the speedometer needle pinning dangerously close to ninety miles per hour. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. Every second that ticked past felt like an eternity.
As she pulled recklessly into the ambulance bay of St. Jude’s Memorial Hospital, she didn't bother parking in a designated stall; she simply slammed the SUV into park across two empty parking spaces, killed the engine, and bolted through the sliding glass automatic doors.
The sterile white hallways of the hospital felt like a labyrinth under the glaring fluorescent lights. Clara ignored the startled shouts of nurses and security guards as she sprinted toward the elevator bank, mashing the call button repeatedly with her fist.
When the elevator doors finally slid open on the fourth floor, Clara burst out into the hallway, sprinting toward Room 402.
The heavy wooden door of her sister’s room was standing wide open. Two local police officers assigned to guard the door were slumped unconscious against the hallway wall, breathing heavily.
May you like
Clara froze on the threshold, her hand gripping the doorframe as she looked into the room. Maya was still lying in bed, her eyes fluttering open in confusion. But standing beside the bed, holding the empty syringe and peeling off a latex glove with chilling composure, was Elena.
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