Chapter 8 - Reckoning
Marco's face turned ash gray. He raised his weapon instinctively, but before he could pull the trigger, a single suppressed shot echoed through the room, hitting Marco's hand and sending his gun spinning across the floor.
"Drop your weapons!" Vince's voice roared from the gallery above.
The remaining three men immediately dropped their firearms, putting their hands on their heads and falling to their knees.
Roman walked slowly over to Marco, who was clutching his bleeding hand, groaning on the floor. Roman knelt down beside him, grabbing him by the collar of his tactical vest and pulling him up until their eyes were inches apart.
"Tell Julian," Roman whispered into Marco's ear, "that I know about the warehouse in the docks. I know about his accounts in Switzerland. And I know he tried to steal my flesh and blood."
Marco choked on his own breath, terrified by the pure, unadulterated malice in Roman's eyes. "Roman... please... it was just a contract—"
"You brought violence into a sanctuary for children," Roman said quietly. "There is no contract in hell that will save your boss tomorrow morning."
Roman signaled to Vince. "Disarm them. Lock them in the basement with Sloan. When the sun comes up, we turn the evidence of Moretti's human trafficking over to the federal authorities—and we handle the rest ourselves."
Within an hour, the room was cleared. The threat to the hospital was completely neutralized, executed so cleanly that not a single patient on the lower floors had heard a sound.
Roman walked down the private fire stairs toward the secure medical room where Elena had been waiting under the guard of his most trusted lieutenants.
When he opened the door, the sight made his heart stop.
Elena was sitting in a plush rocking chair near the window, wrapped in a warm fleece blanket. Fast asleep in her arms was tiny Nico, breathing softly, his tiny head resting against her collarbone.
May you like
On the small bassinet beside her lay the second baby—the proxy child from Incubator Four—now clean, fed, and resting peacefully under a warm blue blanket.
Roman stood in the doorway, staring at the scene. The war, the blood, the vengeance that had burned in his chest for three weeks seemed to melt away, leaving behind a profound, humbling peace.
