Chapter 31 - The Red Dot on the Glass
The air in the sterile hospital corridor evaporated into sheer, breathless terror. Daniel didn’t think; he reacted with the raw, primal instinct of an apex predator protecting its cub. He slammed his shoulder into the heavy oak door of Hannah’s pediatric suite, bursting into the room just as Clara was peeling the wrapper off a cherry lollipop.
"Get down!" Daniel roared, his voice cracking with panic.
Clara’s eyes went wide. She moved instantly, sweeping four-year-old Hannah off the medical bed and tumbling backward onto the linoleum floor.
A millisecond later, a deafening crack shattered the silence. The reinforced double-paned window exploded into a million diamond shards. A high-caliber bullet tore through the empty mattress, shredding foam and down feathers into a chaotic blizzard. Right through the heart of where Hannah’s head had rested two seconds before, a glowing red laser dot flickered on the wallpaper behind the shredded headboard.
"Sniper! Across the plaza!" Detective Vance screamed from the hallway, his service weapon drawn, taking cover behind the doorframe. "Hospital security is compromised! Move, Daniel! Move!"
Sirens blared inside the pediatric wing. Red emergency lights bathed the room in a bloody strobe effect. Hannah screamed, clinging to Clara’s neck with tiny, white-knuckled fists. "Daddy! Daddy, it’s loud! Make it stop!"
"I’ve got you, baby. Daddy’s got you," Daniel breathed, scrambling on hands and knees across the glass-strewn floor. He shielded Clara and Hannah with his own broad frame, his heart pounding like a war drum against his ribs. He felt the cold sting of glass biting through his tailored trousers, but the physical pain was utterly drowned out by the arctic horror chilling his soul.
*“Did you really think there were only two of us, Daniel? Look out the window.”*
The text message burned behind his eyelids. Evelyn was dead—or the woman who fell from the clocktower was dead. Sarah Jenkins had died in Cell 402. Neither of them was the real Eleanor Vale.
Daniel lunged toward the corner where Vance stood guard. "Where is the extraction vehicle?"
"Rear loading dock, sub-level two," Vance said, his face slick with sweat, eyes darting down the corridor as panicked nurses and orderly staff ran for the fire escapes. "The tactical team was supposed to secure the perimeter ten minutes ago, but their comms just went dead. The whole damn network is being jammed."
Another bullet whined through the broken window, embedding itself in the steel medicine cabinet with a sickening thud. The shooter wasn't shooting to kill—they were herding them.
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"They want us in the hallway," Clara gasped, her face pale beneath the emergency lights, holding the weeping little girl tightly. "Daniel, they're funneling us toward the elevators."
"Then we take the incinerator chute service stairs," Daniel growled, grabbing Vance’s backup firearm from his ankle holster. He checked the magazine with cold efficiency. "Whoever is behind that scope thinks they’re hunting sheep. It’s time they remember who built this city."
