Chapter 4
Medical staff burst through the ICU doors, pushing Ethan back as doctors scrambled around Clara’s bed.
"Defibrillator on standby! We're losing her rhythm!" Doctor Evans shouted, applying chest compressions.
Ethan watched from the doorway, his heart hammering against his ribs as nurses rushed past him with emergency trays.
He felt a hand touch his shoulder—it was Detective Miller again, her face pale.
"Ethan, you need to step out," Sarah urged gently. "Let them work."
Ethan took a step back into the hallway, his instincts suddenly flaring like alarm bells.
Across the corridor, a man dressed in a blue hospital maintenance uniform was walking away at a hurried pace.
Ethan caught a glimpse of the man's right hand—he was wearing tactical gloves under his rubber work gloves, and a syringe wrapper hung out of his pocket.
The maintenance worker had just stepped out of Clara's room right before the alarm went off.
"Sarah, lock down the floor!" Ethan roared, breaking into a sprint down the corridor.
The fake maintenance worker turned around, saw Ethan rushing toward him, and pulled a suppressed pistol from his tool belt.
The man fired two shots into the ceiling, causing nurses and visitors to scream and drop to the floor in sheer terror.
Ethan ducked behind a metal laundry cart, sliding across the slick floor as bullets whizzed past his head.
The assassin bolted for the emergency exit stairwell, pushing open the heavy fire doors.
Ethan leaped over the cart, pursuing the target with relentless speed into the dim, concrete stairwell.
The assassin turned on the landing, aiming the suppressed pistol directly at Ethan's chest.
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Ethan didn't hesitate; he ducked beneath the line of fire, driving his shoulder straight into the assassin's midsection.
Both men tumbled violently down the concrete steps, crashing onto the lower landing in a flurry of blows.
