Chapter 6 - The Basement Extraction
The elevator descended like a falling stone, bypassing every floor between the penthouse medical wing and the subterranean loading bays of North Shore Memorial.
Inside the metal cage stood Dr. Mercer, who had refused to leave their side, holding a medical go-bag; two of Dorian’s elite personal guards, clad in ballistic vests and carrying suppressed submachine guns; and Dorian, who kept Alina shielded behind his broad frame, his left hand resting firmly on the small of her back.
"The garage exit is blocked," one of the guards, a hulking man named Miller, spoke into his comm-link as the digital floor counter blinked B2. "Vane’s men have cut off the primary ramp with a delivery truck."
"We go through the maintenance tunnels," Dorian instructed without missing a beat. "Marcus has the armored Suburban waiting by the steam plant."
The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding.
Instead of the brightly lit underground parking garage, they stepped into the dim, echoing expanse of the hospital’s industrial service level. Overhead pipes hissed with steam, and flickering fluorescent lights cast long, jagged shadows across the concrete floor.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
The sound of rubber-soled boots echoing off the concrete walls ricocheted from down the main corridor.
"Contact!" Miller barked, instantly dropping to one knee and raising his weapon toward the intersecting hallway thirty yards away.
"Move!" Dorian ordered, grabbing Alina’s hand and pulling her behind a massive industrial laundry unit while Dr. Mercer ducked low beside them.
Pop-pop-pop!
Silenced gunfire stitched across the concrete wall just inches above their heads, sending a shower of gray dust and concrete shrapnel raining down over their shoulders.
Alina gasped, pressing her hands over her mouth.
Dorian didn't flinch. He drew his Sig Sauer P229 from its custom shoulder holster with fluid, lethal grace. Without looking back, he fired two rapid shots around the edge of the laundry unit.
A heavy thud echoed down the hall, followed by a muffled curse as one of the Vane operatives dropped out of sight.
"Miller, suppressive fire! Cover our flank!" Dorian yelled over the ringing in their ears.
"Go, boss! Go!" Miller shouted back, unleashing a controlled burst of return fire down the corridor.
Dorian grabbed Alina’s wrist, pulling her through a heavy double door marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. Dr. Mercer hurried right behind them, her professional composure holding together by sheer willpower as they plunged into the labyrinth of dark, brick-lined steam tunnels beneath the hospital.
The air down here was thick, hot, and smelled of rust and boiling water. The only illumination came from the occasional emergency red bulb glowing at twenty-foot intervals.
"Dorian, I can't... I can't run this fast," Alina panted, her chest burning, her hand clutching her lower abdomen in sudden, sharp alarm.
Dorian heard the catch in her voice. He stopped instantly, ignoring the sound of shouting and heavy footsteps echoing behind them down the tunnel. He didn't hesitate; he scooped her up into his arms, bridal style, carrying her effortlessly against his chest while holding his firearm ready in his right hand.
"Dorian, put me down, you'll slow down—"
"Shut up and hold onto me," he muttered, his breath coming in hot, measured rushes against her hair.
They rounded a sharp corner, sprinting past towering industrial boilers, until the heavy iron door leading to the exterior steam plant came into view.
Parked right outside the rolling metal gate was Dorian’s black Suburban, its engine idling, headlights off in the shadows. Marcus was standing by the rear door, holding a tactical shotgun, scanning the darkness.
"Boss!" Marcus yelled, spotting them through the wire-mesh window. He hit the control switch, and the heavy iron gate groaned upward just enough for them to slide underneath.
Dorian kicked the gate open the rest of the way, bundling Alina into the backseat of the SUV before diving in right behind her. Dr. Mercer scrambled in through the other side, and Miller slammed the door shut from the outside just as two armed figures rounded the corner of the steam plant.
May you like
Bang! Bang!
Bullets pinged harmlessly off the vehicle's ballistic-grade armored plating as Marcus slammed the accelerator to the floor. The Suburban surged forward, tearing through a chain-link fence and launching out onto the rain-slicked Chicago expressway.
