"No other tests tonight?"
"Not unless something changes. We're just monitoring for now." She smiled kindly. "Try to get some rest, Mr. Moretti. She's in good hands."
She left and I settled back in the chair, my hand returning to Angelina's. I must have dozed off because I jerked awake to the sound of the door opening.
A doctor I didn't recognize entered. Asian, maybe early forties, wearing scrubs and a white coat with a hospital ID badge clipped to the pocket.
"Mr. Moretti," he said with a professional smile. "I'm Dr. Kim, neurology. I've been reviewing your wife's case."
Something felt off. I couldn't pinpoint what. Just a whisper of instinct that had kept me alive in this business for years.
"Dr. Patterson is her attending," I said carefully.
"He is. But I'm the neurosurgeon on call tonight. Dr. Patterson asked me to evaluate Mrs. Moretti's subdural hematoma." He moved to the monitors, studying them. "Her latest neuro checks show some concerning signs. I'd like to get another CT scan, just to make sure the bleeding hasn't increased."
"What concerning signs? The nurse just said she was stable."
"Subtle things. Pupil response time, slight changes in her reflexive movements." He pulled out a small penlight. "Nothing immediately dangerous, but with head trauma, we don't take chances. The CT will only take twenty minutes. Better safe than sorry."
Every instinct screamed at me that something was wrong.
"I'll come with her," I said.
"I'm afraid you can't. CT rooms have strict protocols, only essential medical personnel can be present." He moved to unlock the brake on Angelina's bed. "But I can have security wait right outside radiology if that makes you more comfortable."
"My security goes with her."
"Of course."
He pressed the call button and another person entered—wearing scrubs, a surgical cap, face mask. Could have been male or female, I couldn't tell.
"We're taking Mrs. Moretti down for an urgent CT," Dr. Kim said. "Let's move quickly."
They started wheeling the bed toward the door.
I stood, that uneasy feeling intensifying. "Wait."
Dr. Kim paused. "Mr. Moretti, every minute counts with a potential bleed."
"Show me your hospital ID."
His expression flickered. Just for a second. But it was enough.
"Mr. Moretti, I don't have time for–"
I was already moving, pulling out my phone to call Matvey, when the person in scrubs pulled a gun from beneath their clothes.
"Don't," female voice, cold and professional.
Dr. Kim's friendly demeanor vanished. "We're taking your wife, Mr. Moretti. You can cooperate and live, or resist and die. Your choice."
"You won't make it out of this building." I pressed the button on my phone but never lifted it to my face.
"We already have." He gestured to the window where I could see—fuck—an ambulance in the parking lot below, positioned beneath the window. "Special delivery."
The door burst open and two of Matvey’s men rushed in, weapons drawn.
The woman fired twice, silenced shots that barely made a sound. Both men went down.
