Chapter 6 - Whispering in the Crypt
We poured into the grand foyer of the Vance mansion like a tide of black shadows.
Marco’s men secured the private security guards within seconds, disarming them and throwing them onto the marble floor before they could fire a single shot.
The interior of the house was sickeningly luxurious—crystal chandeliers, original oil paintings, and fresh flowers lining the hallways. Yet beneath the scent of expensive polish, my trained nose caught the sharp, unmistakable metallic tang of human blood and antiseptic.
"Downstairs," I yelled, pointing toward a heavy wooden door tucked beneath the grand staircase. "The scent of surgical disinfectant is coming from the basement levels!"
Sebastian kicked the door open, his weapon raised.
We descended a flight of cold stone stairs into a renovated wine cellar that had been converted into a makeshift, underground medical isolation room. The air was freezing, damp, and smelled of stale copper.
In the center of the room, lit by a single halogen lamp, lay a young girl on a stainless steel exam table.
She was hooked up to a primitive saline drip, her long dark hair matted with sweat against her pale forehead. Her breathing was shallow, rapid, and raspy.
Standing beside her was an elderly man in a white lab coat, holding a syringe filled with a clear sedative.
"Drop the syringe," Sebastian commanded, his voice echoing off the stone walls like a thunderclap.
The doctor froze, dropping the plastic syringe onto the floor. He backed into the corner with his hands raised, shaking violently. "I... I was just administering a painkiller! I was hired to monitor her!"
I rushed past Sebastian, dropping my trauma bags onto the metal table beside the girl.
"Hannah!" I called out, pressing two fingers against her carotid artery.
Her pulse was thready, hovering over one hundred and forty beats per minute. Her skin was burning hot to the touch—she was in full-blown septic shock from an untreated uterine infection. Blood was seeping through the heavy bandages wrapped around her lower abdomen.
"She needs blood products and intravenous antibiotics right now!" I shouted, tearing open my emergency kit. "If we don't stabilize her blood pressure within ten minutes, her organs will shut down!"
Sebastian stepped to the side of the table. He looked down at the face of the girl he hadn't seen since she was three pounds of fighting spirit behind a nursery window seventeen years ago.
He reached out, his big hand trembling as he gently brushed a wet strand of hair away from her face.
"Valentina..." he whispered, his voice cracking with unbearable tenderness.
The girl’s dark eyelashes fluttered open slowly. Her eyes were deep, intelligent brown—the exact duplicate of Sebastian's.
"Where... where is my baby?" she rasped through her cracked lips, her gaze wandering wildly around the cold stone room. "They took him... my father said he died... he said they threw him away..."
May you like
Tears spilled over Sebastian’s scarred cheeks, splashing onto the cold steel table.
"He lied to you, my sweet girl," Sebastian wept softly, leaning down to press his forehead gently against hers. "Your son is alive. He is safe. He is sleeping in my arms right now, waiting for his mother to come home."
