The pharmaceuticals in my system should make this easy, should erase the hollow feeling spreading through my chest when I think about hurting her.
But they don't.
Time to move.
I keep Hartley's pace. Measured. Unhurried. A man leaving after checking on an associate's wife, not a ghost evaporating before the hunter arrives. Performance doesn't end until you're offstage.
The elevator doors part, revealing an empty interior. Another stage, this one silent, void.
I step inside. The doors slide shut with the clunk of metal that's been rammed by patient beds and rushing emergencies.
I slip out of the elevator one floor below, transforming my posture the moment the doors close. David Hartley's carefully measured bureaucratic gait dissolves into something more efficient, more lethal.
My phone vibrates against my palm. Aleh.
Me:Everyone in position?
Aleh:Yes.
I cut through a service hallway, past supply closets and equipment that keeps this building functioning. Perfect symmetry—the invisible support structure most never notice, just as I operate in shadows while the world continues unaware.
Me:The electrical system?
Aleh:Vladik's on it. You'll have forty-seven seconds of darkness on the fifth floor.
I check the tablet in my hand, displaying hospital security feeds I've infiltrated. Fee sits with Yuri, still watching that laptop screen, searching for Anton's signal.
Me:Sixty seconds.
I recheck the tablet. Connor Quinn is at Moira's bedside alongside all the Carlucci's men, who are outside Moira's room. It leaves Fee with only Yuri as protection.
I move through the service corridor to the stairwell. I go up one flight. The fifth-floor door opens without a sound, just as Vladik arranged. The maintenance closet is right across from the waiting room, positioned perfectly. I slip inside, leaving the door cracked just enough to see through.
Me:Begin
Then the overhead speakers crackle to life. "Code Blue, NICU, isolette seven. Code Blue, NICU, isolette seven."
A pause. "Code Blue, NICU, isolette twelve. Code Blue, NICU, isolette twelve."
Another pause. Then the cascade begins. "Code Blue, NICU, isolette three."
"Code Blue, NICU, isolette eighteen."
"Code Blue, NICU, isolette nine."
The announcements bleed into each other. Five, six, seven babies in distress. Impossible. Statistically absurd. But nobody is going to sit and wait to see if it's a malfunction.
The rush is immediate and visceral. Parents' screams echo through the corridors.
My phone buzzes. Aleh's text confirms:Done.
Yuri reacts instantly, drawing his weapon and positioning his body between Fee and the perceived danger.
"Stay down," Yuri orders Fee.
She drops behind her chair without hesitation. No arguments, no questions. I've always admired that about her.
My finger hovers over ENTER on my tablet, the command that will trigger the electrical disruption.
