Chapter 4 - The Midnight Extraction
Dr. Vance screamed, but the sound was choked off as Matteo pulled the doctor down by his collar, slamming his head brutally against the metal bedrail. Vance collapsed to the floor like a sack of stones, completely unconscious.
Elena gasped, backing away as the syringe rolled against her shoe.
Outside, the commotion hadn't gone unnoticed. The door burst open, and both dark-suited guards charged into the room, drawing black handguns from beneath their coats.
"He's awake!" one yelled. "Kill him!"
Matteo didn't hesitate. Despite six months of muscle atrophy, fueled by sheer adrenaline and an unyielding will to survive, he swung his broad legs out of the bed. He ripped the IV lines from his arm, grabbed the heavy chrome IV stand, and swung it like a baseball bat.
The heavy base of the stand struck the first guard across the jaw, sending him crashing into the heart monitor in a shower of sparks and shattered plastic.
The second guard leveled his gun directly at Matteo's chest. "Die, you bastard!"
"No!" Elena shrieked.
Without thinking, she grabbed the heavy glass water pitcher from the bedside table and slammed it over the second guard's head. The glass shattered, drenching the man in ice water and blood. He stumbled backward, disoriented.
Matteo lunged forward, catching the guard’s gun hand, twisting his wrist until the weapon clattered to the floor. With one fluid, brutal movement, Matteo drove his elbow into the man's solar plexus, knocking the air from his lungs, then delivered a devastating knee to his chest, dropping him cold.
The room fell dead silent, save for the heavy, ragged breathing of two people surrounded by broken glass, unconscious hitmen, and sparking electronics.
Matteo stood in the center of the destruction, bare-chested, covered in minor medical scars, looking like a resurrected god of war. He looked down at the guard at his feet, then turned his intense gaze toward Elena.
She was trembling from head to toe, holding the broken handle of the water pitcher, her scrubs splattered with water and drops of blood.
"You hit him," Matteo said, a faint trace of awe in his deep voice.
"He... he was going to shoot you," Elena stammered, her knees threatening to buckle under the weight of the adrenaline crash.
Before Matteo could answer, heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor outside. Shouted commands and the distinct sound of tactical boots hit the floorboards. Dante's backup squad was moving in.
"We have to go," Matteo said. He reached down, picked up one of the guards' suppressed pistols from the floor, and grabbed a dark trench coat resting on a chair. He threw the coat over his broad shoulders, then stepped over the debris toward Elena.
He reached out, his warm, rough palm cupping her cheek. "If you stay here, Elena, Dante will know you helped me. He will kill you."
Elena looked into his gray eyes, seeing the absolute certainty in them. Her quiet, predictable life as a night-shift nurse was shattered forever. There was no going back to charts and vending machines.
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"Where do we go?" she whispered.
Matteo took her hand, lacing his long, strong fingers securely through hers. "To reclaim my empire."
