Chapter 5 - The Night GuardThe rain outside St. Jude’s Hospital turned into a torrential downpour by midnight. Lightning flashed across the dark sky, casting long, skeletal shadows through the blinds of Room 412.
Inside, the room was quiet save for the soft, rhythmic hum of the fetal heart monitor and the steady drip of the IV machine. Grace was sleeping deeply, her face still pale, but her breathing calm and regular. Ava was curled up on the small pull-out sofa in the corner, fast asleep under a heavy wool blanket.
Luke sat in the armchair beside Grace’s bed, his charcoal tuxedo jacket discarded over the back of the chair, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He hadn't slept a wink. His laptop sat open on his lap, connected to a secure server as he worked alongside ADA Reed’s legal team via encrypted messenger, cataloging every single document from the yellow envelope.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
Luke immediately stood up, his hand dropping to his pocket out of instinct.
The door opened, and Sergeant Miller stepped inside, shaking rain off his cap. He looked tired, deep dark circles carved beneath his eyes.
“How is she holding up?” Miller asked in a low whisper.
“She’s sleeping,” Luke replied, stepping toward the door so as not to wake Grace. “Did Reed get the grand jury subpoena for Vanguard’s records?”
Miller sighed, looking around the quiet hallway before leaning in close. “Reed’s working on it, but we’ve got a problem, Bennett. The precinct captain just pulled my detail.”
Luke’s stomach dropped. “What? Why?”
“Official reason? 'Budget constraints and re-allocation of personnel for the storm emergency,'” Miller spat bitterly. “Unofficial reason? Richard Whitmore made a call to the commissioner’s office twenty minutes ago. The two officers outside this door are being reassigned at 1:00 AM. They’re replacing them with a private security contractor recommended by the hospital board.”
Luke’s blood went ice-cold. “Vanguard.”
“I’d bet my pension on it,” Miller said, his jaw clenching. “Reed is fighting it right now with a state judge, but until she gets an emergency injunction, this floor is going to be wide open in twenty minutes.”
Luke looked back into the room at Grace’s peaceful face, then at little Ava sleeping on the sofa.
He wasn't going to wait for an injunction that might come too late.
“Miller, how much time do I have before those officers leave?” Luke asked.
“Fifteen minutes, tops.”
“Get my laptop and the original physical documents into a secure locker in the hospital basement,” Luke ordered, his voice turning hard as iron. “And call ADA Reed. Tell her to meet us at the service exit on 4th Street.”
“What are you planning to do?”
“We’re getting out of here,” Luke said, walking back into the room and gently shaking Grace’s shoulder. “Grace... Grace, wake up. We have to move.”
Grace opened her eyes, her gaze instantly clearing as she saw the urgency in his face. “Luke? What’s wrong?”
“They know where you are,” Luke whispered, leaning down to help her sit up. “Whitmore pulled the police guards. We have ten minutes before his people walk through that door.”
Grace didn't panic. Seven months of captivity had taught her how to move fast when danger approached. She swung her legs off the bed, clutching her belly with one hand while Luke wrapped a warm coat around her shoulders.
Luke walked over to the sofa, gently scooping Ava up into his arms. The little girl rubbed her eyes, murmuring sleepily against his shoulder.
“Miller, clear the service elevator,” Luke said, turning to the sergeant. “We go out through the basement loading dock.”
Miller nodded, drawing his service weapon and stepping out into the corridor first. “Hallway’s clear. Move!”
They moved swiftly down the quiet, dimly lit hallway toward the rear service elevators. The hospital was dead quiet, the only sound the distant rumble of thunder outside and the squeak of Luke’s dress shoes against the linoleum floor.
They reached the heavy steel doors of Service Elevator 3. Miller pressed the call button, the arrow lighting up green as the elevator began ascending from the basement.
DING.
The doors slid open.
Luke froze.
Standing inside the metal elevator cab were two men in dark tactical jackets. Neither of them wore hospital badges. The man in front—a burly figure with a white scar running from his ear to his collarbone—held a suppressed pistol pointed directly at Luke’s chest.
Marcus Vance.
“Going somewhere, Mr. Bennett?” Vance asked smoothly.
Before Miller could raise his service weapon, the second man lunged out of the elevator, driving a heavy tactical stun baton into Miller’s side. A sharp blue arc of electricity crackled through the air, and Sergeant Miller collapsed to the floor, gasping as his gun skidded across the tiles.
Grace screamed.
Luke reacted instinctively. He threw his body in front of Grace, backing her toward the heavy fire exit door at the end of the hall while keeping Ava shielded behind his back.
“Get back!” Luke yelled.
Vance stepped out of the elevator, raising the suppressed pistol, his cold eyes locking onto Grace’s terrified face. “Hand over the envelope, Bennett. And step away from the girl. Orders are simple tonight.”
Luke backed up until his spine hit the crash bar of the fire exit door. Behind him lay six flights of concrete stairs leading to the basement. In front of him stood two armed killers sent by the woman he had almost married.
He looked at Vance, then at the heavy fire extinguisher mounted on the wall two feet to his right.
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“You want the envelope?” Luke rasped, his eyes narrowing with a fierce, deadly resolve.
With a sudden, violent kick, Luke slammed his foot into the crash bar of the fire door, throwing it wide open, while his right hand grabbed the heavy red fire extinguisher off its wall bracket and hurled it with all his strength straight at Vance’s head.
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