Chapter 8 - The Siege of Saint Jude's
At 5:15 a.m., a fleet of six black armored SUVs tore through the desolate, rain-slicked streets of downtown, stopping two blocks away from Saint Jude’s Care Center.
The heavy morning fog rolled off the nearby river, cloaking the brick building in a ghostly gray haze.
Inside the lead SUV, Mave sat beside Gallagher, adjusting the heavy tactical harness on Brutus. The dog was completely calm, leaning his broad body against her side, receiving the steady, confident energy she projected.
Gallagher checked the magazine on his suppressed automatic rifle, pulling the bolt back with a sharp, metallic CLACK.
"Rossi has twenty men inside," Marco reported from the front seat, looking at a digital schematic on a tablet. "They've secured the main lobby and the third-floor ICU where Miss Vance's mother is located. The private security guards hired by the facility were disarmed and locked in the basement."
"How are we getting in?" Gallagher asked Mave.
"The laundry chute on the south alley," Mave answered instantly, pointing at the digital map. "It leads directly into the basement service corridor. From there, we take the service elevator up to the third floor, bypassing the main lobby entirely."
Gallagher looked at her with growing respect. "Good. Marco, take team two through the front entrance—make enough noise to draw Rossi's main force down to the lobby. Me, Mave, and Brutus take the service route."
"Understood, boss," Marco nodded, signaling the other vehicles via radio.
Three minutes later, the night exploded into chaos.
Team two breached the front glass doors of the medical center, throwing flashbang grenades into the lobby. Loud explosions and heavy gunfire echoed through the street, drawing the majority of Rossi’s enforcers rushing down the main stairwells to reinforce the ground floor.
Under the cover of the distraction, Gallagher kicked open the heavy metal door of the laundry alley, leading Mave and Brutus into the dark, sterile basement corridor.
They moved fast and quiet. Gallagher led with his rifle raised, his gray eyes scanning every corner, while Mave kept Brutus on a short, firm lead right beside his knee.
They reached the heavy steel service elevator. Mave punched in the emergency facility override code she had memorized months ago.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime.
They stepped inside, and Mave hit the button for the third floor.
As the elevator ascended, Gallagher reached out, taking Mave's free hand in his. His grip was steady, reassuring, and strong.
"We get her out, Mave," he said quietly. "I promise you."
"I know," she whispered, squeezing his hand back.
DING.
The elevator doors opened onto the third floor.
The hallway was dimly lit, smelling of floor wax and rubbing alcohol. At the far end of the corridor, right outside Room 312—her mother's room—stood three of Rossi's men, holding automatic submachine guns.
One of them turned, spotting the elevator. "Hey! Who—"
Gallagher didn't give him a chance to finish. He raised his rifle, firing three precise, suppressed bursts. Two of the men dropped instantly, but the third managed to dive behind a heavy steel medical cart, spraying wild gunfire down the hallway.
Bullets tore through the drywall, shattering fluorescent light fixtures overhead in a rain of sparks and glass.
Gallagher pulled Mave back into the safety of the elevator alcove, returning fire to pin the shooter down.
"He's behind cover!" Gallagher shouted over the gunfire. "I can't get a clean angle without exposing us!"
Mave looked down at Brutus. The dog's ears were pinned back, his yellow eyes blazing with focused, predatory intent, waiting for her command.
"Brutus," Mave said, dropping low, pointing her hand straight down the narrow corridor toward the medical cart. "Flank!"
She unclipped the tactical lead.
Brutus didn't run down the center of the hall where the bullets were flying. Tapping into the tactical training Mave had worked on with him at the estate, the giant dog hugged the left wall, staying beneath the line of fire, moving like a dark blur through the shadows.
The shooter behind the medical cart was so focused on Gallagher’s rifle that he didn't see the hundred-and-twenty-pound beast coming from his blind side.
Brutus leapt over the steel cart, slamming into the gunman with terrifying force.
A sharp scream of horror cut through the hallway, followed by the heavy clatter of a dropped weapon.
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Gallagher rounded the corner immediately, securing the hallway with his rifle.
Mave sprinted past him, her heart in her throat, throwing open the door to Room 312.
