Chapter 8 - The Butcher in White
The elevator ride to the second floor felt like an eternity. The floor indicator lights ticked upward slowly: B... 1... 2.
When the doors opened, we stepped into a plush, private surgical waiting wing. Standing near the nurses' station were three men in tailored Italian suits—Don Falcone’s top lieutenants. Sitting in a leather armchair was Don Falcone himself, an elderly man with silver hair and an oxygen cannula in his nose, his face twisted in desperate arrogance.
When Falcone saw Adrian Valente walk out of the elevator, bloody and holding an assault weapon, his eyes widened in sheer horror.
"Valente!" Falcone gasped, reaching for a panic button on his wheelchair.
Before his guards could even clear their holsters, Adrian fired three rapid, terrifyingly precise shots. Falcone’s three lieutenants collapsed to the floor, instantly neutralized.
Adrian stepped over the fallen men, walking straight up to Don Falcone. He pressed the hot barrel of his gun directly under the old man's chin.
"Where is the donor container, Falcone?" Adrian asked in a voice so quiet it was terrifying.
"You... you can't do this, Valente," Falcone stammered, his body trembling violently. "My son... he's in there... his heart is failing... he's only twenty-two..."
"And my daughter is seven months old, and you paid my nanny to throw her in the trash," Adrian replied, his voice devoid of human emotion. "Where is the container?"
"It’s... it’s inside OR 2," Falcone wept. "Vance hasn't started the incision yet... they're still inducing anesthesia..."
Adrian shoved Falcone aside and kicked open the double swing doors of Operating Room 2.
The room was blindingly white. In the center lay a young man under surgical drapes, hooked up to a heart-lung monitor. Standing over him, holding a scalpel in gloved hands, was Dr. Harrison Vance.
Beside the operating table sat a stainless steel, temperature-controlled organ transport box—its digital screen reading ACTIVE PRESERVATION / MATCH CODE: L-9042.
Lucia’s match code.
Dr. Vance froze, his scalpel hovering in mid-air. When his eyes caught mine standing behind Adrian, his face went completely white.
"M-Maya?" Vance stuttered, his voice shaking. "What... what are you doing here? How did you get out of jail?"
"You sold my sister's life, Dr. Vance," I said, stepping into the room, my voice dripping with cold, focused fury. "You took the heart that was legally assigned to Lucia Lin and sold it to Falcone."
"I... I had no choice!" Vance cried out, backing away until his back hit the stainless steel instrument cabinet. "Falcone threatened my family! Dante said he would make my debts disappear! I was going to give Lucia the next available donor! I swear it!"
"Lucia doesn't have two months, Vance," I said, pulling the stainless steel organ container off the table and checking the temperature readouts. The seal was intact. The cold-ischemia clock was still within the safe four-hour window. "And you aren't going to get the chance to lie to another family."
Adrian walked up to Vance, grabbed him by his surgical collar, and slammed him against the wall.
"You're going to finish a transplant tonight, Doctor," Adrian whispered into his ear. "But not for Falcone's son. You are going to step into my private medical chopper, you are going to fly to Oakbrook under armed guard, and you are going to put this heart into Maya's sister."
May you like
Vance swallowed hard, terror gleaming in his eyes. "And... and if I refuse?"
Adrian brought his face inches from the doctor's. "If you refuse, I will personally dissect you piece by piece and feed you to the stray dogs behind your clinic. And if my sister-in-law's heart fails because of your mistake... you won't survive the night."
