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Chapter 14 - The nursery on the third floor

Elena’s entire universe contracted into that single, fragile frequency.

She didn't wait for Lorenzo. She didn't check for guards. She gathered the damp hem of her jacket and flew up the stairs, taking two steps at a time.

"Elena! Wait for the sweep!" Marcus shouted from below, but she was deaf to him.

Her lungs burned. The air in the second-floor hallway was stale, smelling of antiseptic and dust, reminiscent of the hospital ward where Dr. Cole had stolen her world from her. She followed the sound down a carpeted corridor toward a heavy white door at the far end.

The cry grew louder, sharper, filled with the helpless panic of an infant abandoned in the dark.

Elena slammed her palms against the door and pushed it open.

Inside, the room was bathed in the dim amber glow of a seashell nightlight. Standing beside a white crib was an older woman in a nurse’s uniform, her hands trembling violently as she held a small, nickel-plated revolver pointed toward the door.

"Get back!" the woman shrieked, her voice shrill with terrified hysteria. "Don't come near me! Mr. Moretti said—"

Before the woman could finish the sentence, a hand like an iron vice reached past Elena’s shoulder. Lorenzo had crossed the room in a phantom stride. He gripped the revolver’s cylinder, preventing it from firing, and wrenched it from the woman’s grasp with a sickening crunch of her fingers. With his other hand, he shoved her hard against the wall, his gun pressed directly beneath her chin.

"Make another sound," Lorenzo hissed, his voice dropping to a demonic whisper, "and I will paint this nursery with your brains."

The woman choked, sliding to her knees in absolute terror, wetting herself on the plush carpet.

Elena didn't look at them. She moved blindly toward the crib.

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There, wrapped in a coarse, impersonal hospital swaddle, lay an infant girl. She had a thick mop of dark brown curls, tiny clenched fists, and tear-streaked cheeks that were flushed bright pink from screaming.

Elena stood over the crib, her breath catching in her throat as if all the oxygen had been sucked from the room. Her hands shook so violently she could barely reach down.

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