Chapter 13 - The Midnight Escape and the Hospital Return
The plaster dust hung thick in the air like a smoke screen. Through the resulting confusion, Jax didn't dive out the window; instead, he dropped his shoulder and plowed straight past the startled police officers, using his massive size and raw momentum to send them stumbling back against the hallway walls.
"Stop right there! Don't move!" one of the officers shouted, recovering his balance and drawing his flashlight.
Jax didn't look back. He sprinted out the front door, leaping down the porch steps three at a time. He scrambled into his sedan, threw the gearshift into reverse, and tore away from the curb with tires screaming against the asphalt. He had to get back to St. Jude’s Memorial Hospital before the state transport vehicle arrived with Dylan. If the boy was processed into the system intake center across town, getting him back would require a legal war that could take months—time Mark simply didn't have.
Ten minutes later, Jax’s sedan fishtailed into the ambulance bay of St. Jude’s, coming to a violent halt right beside the automatic doors. He killed the engine, grabbed the metal lockbox from the passenger seat, and bolted inside the hospital lobby.
The night nurse at the front desk looked up in alarm as Jax slammed the heavy lockbox down onto the counter.
"Where is he?" Jax demanded, breathing heavily, his hair wild and his leather vest dusty from the broken drywall. "Where is the state team that brought in a little boy named Dylan Vance?"
"Mr. Miller, you need to calm down," the nurse said, raising her hands defensively. "Room 412. But the doctor—"
Jax didn't wait to hear the rest. He pushed past the front desk and sprinted down the hallway toward the intensive care elevators. He mashed the call button repeatedly until the metal doors slid open, throwing himself inside and punching the fourth-floor button with a scarred thumb.
When the elevator doors dinged open on the fourth floor, Jax charged down the corridor toward Mark’s room.
Standing directly outside the doorway of Room 412 was the state investigator, looking slightly ruffled, flanked by a hospital administrator. Between them stood Dylan, holding onto the hem of a social worker's coat, his big hazel eyes red-rimmed and brimming with fresh tears.
"Uncle Jax!" Dylan cried out, breaking away from the social worker and running full speed down the hallway toward him.
Jax dropped to his knees just in time to catch the boy, scooping him up into a tight, fierce embrace that felt like it could mend every broken piece of their world.
"I've got you, buddy. I've got you," Jax whispered fiercely against Dylan's messy hair.
"Mr. Miller, this is entirely inappropriate," the state investigator snapped, stepping forward with her hand extended to separate them. "The transfer order is finalized. The boy must come with us now."
Jax stood up slowly, holding Dylan securely against his hip with one arm. With his free hand, he flipped open the heavy metal lockbox on the nearby table, pulled out the notarized adoption decree, and shoved the official government-stamped documents directly into the investigator's chest.
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"Read it," Jax snarled, his voice echoing down the sterile hospital hallway. "Read every damn word before you ever try to touch my son again."
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