Chapter 3 - War on the Streets
St. Jude’s Memorial Hospital sat on the border of the downtown district, an aging brick building surrounded by narrow alleys and graffiti-stained brick walls.
Normally, a hospital was a sanctuary where even warring syndicates respected a temporary truce. But as our convoy of three black, armored Mercedes-Benz sedans turned onto 4th Avenue, it was immediately clear that the truce was dead.
Two black SUVs blocked the hospital’s emergency entrance, their doors flung open. Several men in leather jackets, carrying concealed weapons, stood near the sliding glass doors, arguing with the hospital security guards.
"Stay in the car, Ruby," Nathaniel commanded, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. He turned to Marcus, who was sitting in the front passenger seat holding an encrypted radio. "Secure the perimeter. No one enters or leaves until I have my daughter."
"Understood, Mr. Graves," Marcus replied, sliding the bolt of his suppressed submachine gun with a sharp clack.
Before the car even came to a complete stop, Nathaniel pushed open his door and stepped out onto the wet asphalt.
The moment the men blocking the hospital entrance saw him, their conversation cut off dead. Color drained from their faces as they recognized the silver-haired titan who walked with the unhurried, terrifying grace of an executioner.
"Mr... Mr. Graves," one of them stammered, taking an involuntary step backward. "We were just—"
"You were trespassing," Nathaniel interrupted coldly, closing the distance between them in three long strides. He didn't raise his voice, but the sheer weight of his presence made the armed men flinch. "Julian Moreau sent you to sniff around my family. Tell your boss that if Elena Vance isn't in a private VIP recovery suite with my doctors attending to her within sixty seconds, I won't just take his docks in the harbor. I'll take his life."
"Wait, Graves—we didn't know—" the man started, raising his hands defensively.
Marcus and four other enforcers swarmed forward, disarming the Moreau thugs in less than five seconds without firing a single shot. They were shoved against the brick wall, pinned and neutralized with terrifying efficiency.
Nathaniel didn't wait to watch. He strode through the sliding glass doors of the emergency ward, his footsteps echoing sharply off the linoleum floor.
I sat in the back of the armored Mercedes, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird. Through the tinted bulletproof glass, I watched the men in black suits secure the perimeter, their movements precise, cold, and utterly professional.
This is who my grandfather is, I thought, a shiver running down my spine. He isn't just a rich businessman. He’s a king.
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A moment later, the passenger door of our car opened, and Marcus leaned in, offering a reassuring, albeit scarred, smile.
"It's okay, Ruby," Marcus said gently. "Your grandfather has your mother. She’s stable, and she's being moved to our private medical wing right now. You're going to see her soon."
