Chapter 6 - The Trap Springs
"Shut your mouth," Graham snapped, raising the pistol higher, his arrogant facade beginning to crack under the weight of her piercing, unbothered stare. "I paid off the entire nursing staff on this floor. No one is coming to save you. Say goodbye, Claire."
"I don't need nurses, Graham," Claire whispered.
With a swift, deliberate motion, Claire’s finger pressed down hard on the red emergency call button attached to her bedrail.
But the button didn't trigger a polite beep at a nurse's station.
Instantly, the standard white fluorescent lamp above the bed shifted to a pulsing, harsh red. The medical monitors on the wall didn't show a heart rate—the screens simultaneously flashed a bold, black insignia: a double-headed eagle. The undeniable crest of the true apex predator of the Chicago underworld.
Graham’s blood turned to absolute ice. The gun in his hand suddenly felt like a million pounds.
"No..." Graham breathed out, his eyes widening in sheer, suffocating horror as he stared at the crest on the monitors. "That's... that's the Romanov family crest."
Before Graham could even turn around, the heavy, locked wooden hospital door didn't just open—it was violently kicked off its hinges.
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The heavy wood crashed onto the sterile floor. Flooding into the room was not a medical team, but eight heavily armed, elite syndicate enforcers wearing tailored black suits and carrying submachine guns. They instantly surrounded Graham, a dozen laser sights painting a deadly grid across his dark trench coat.
👉 The mafia boss was completely cornered, and the true owner of the hospital was about to walk through the ruined doorway.
