Chapter 4 - The Shadow Hospital
The rain began to fall again just before midnight, drumming a relentless tattoo against the bulletproof windows of the Voss estate.
Inside the basement command center—a high-tech bunker filled with banks of glowing monitors, satellite feeds, and encrypted servers—Donovan was tapping furiously at a mechanical keyboard.
“We got a hit,” Donovan announced, spinning his chair around to face Roman and Pamela.
Pamela stood behind Roman, her hands resting nervously on the back of his chair. Since the DNA results had been confirmed, an unspoken, fragile truce had formed between them, bound by a shared enemy and three sleeping children upstairs.
“Talk to me, Donovan,” Roman commanded.
“St. Jude’s Memorial closed its obstetrics and neonatal wing six months ago under the guise of ‘budget restructuring,’” Donovan explained, pulling up a digital architectural blueprint of the sprawling hospital complex on the main screen. “But power consumption logs show heavy electrical draw in the sub-basement levels—levels that don't appear on public city blueprints.”
“A hidden ward,” Roman muttered, his eyes narrowing. “They’re still running the operation underground.”
“Not just running it,” Donovan clicked another file, displaying financial transactions routed through a series of offshore accounts. “Vanguard Health has been moving millions through shell companies tied to Salvatore Moretti’s primary holding corporation. They’re not just trafficking infants; they’re building a biological repository. DNA profiling, genetic tracking, experimental developmental trials on infants born to impoverished mothers.”
Pamela let out a choked gasp, her hand flying to her mouth. “My babies... they used my children for experiments?”
Roman stood up so fast his chair rolled backward into the console. The air in the room grew instantly heavy, charged with the terrifying aura of a predator whose den had been violated.
“Donovan,” Roman said, his voice dropping into a chilling whisper. “Assemble the tactical unit. Full gear. No badges, no warrants.”
“Boss,” Donovan hesitated, glancing at Pamela. “It’s a fortress. Vanguard has private security backed by Moretti’s enforcers. If we go in loud, it’s a war zone.”
“Good,” Roman grabbed his heavy wool coat from the rack, pulling on a pair of tactical leather gloves. “Let’s start a war.”
Pamela stepped forward, her eyes blazing with a fierce, unnatural light. “I’m coming with you.”
Roman stopped, turning to look at her. “No. You stay here with the kids.”
“Those are my children they stole,” Pamela hissed, stepping right into his personal space, her voice shaking with adrenaline. “They lied to me for fourteen months. They turned my life into a nightmare. You might want this for your business war, Roman, but I want this for my blood. I am not staying behind.”
Roman studied her face for a long, tense moment. He saw no fear in her eyes—only the cold, hard steel of a mother who had nothing left to lose.
A grim, humorless smile touched the corner of Roman’s mouth.
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“Donovan,” Roman tossed an extra Kevlar vest across the table. “Find a size small for Mrs. Voss.”
Pamela didn't correct him on the title. Right now, titles didn't matter. Only the mission did.
