omg “Dad… my little sister won’t wake up. We haven’t eaten in three days,” the boy whispered. Panic hit instantly as he rushed them to the hospital. But nothing could prepare him for the truth he was about to uncover—where their mother had really been.

The impact was brutal. We both crashed into the concrete wall with a sickening thud. The gunman let out a grunt as the weapon slipped from his grip, clattering down the iron steps and falling through the gap into the dark stairwell below.

He spun around instantly, his eyes burning with cold rage. Up close, Hector "Goldie" Ortiz was lean, muscular, and terrifyingly calm. A thick silver chain rested against his collarbone, and two gold caps glinted ominously over his upper incisors.

"You should have stayed in your office, accountant," Ortiz hissed, throwing a devastating right hook that caught me square across the jaw.

Pain exploded in my face, tasting of copper and metallic shock. I stumbled back against the fire hose cabinet, my vision spinning. I was an analyst—I spent my days looking at spreadsheets and balance sheets, not fighting career criminals in stairwells.

But as I wiped the blood from my lip, I looked up through the stairwell window and saw the red emergency lights flashing outside Elsie’s room on the fourth floor. I remembered Micah’s pale face in that empty kitchen. I remembered Elsie’s scalding forehead.

A white-hot rage I didn't know I possessed took over my body.

Ortiz lunged at me with a tactical knife pulled from his boot. He slashed horizontally, tearing through my shirt and leaving a burning red line across my ribs.

I didn't retreat. I grabbed his wrist with both hands, using my entire body weight to slam his hand against the iron railing. The knife clattered to the steps. Ortiz tried to knee me in the stomach, but I ducked under his blow, drove my shoulder into his waist, and slammed him hard against the heavy metal door of the third floor.

"WHERE IS SHE?!" I screamed, pinning his arm behind his back. "WHERE IS DELANEY?!"

Ortiz let out a dark, breathless laugh, his face pressed against the painted steel door. "Your ex-wife is a snake, Mercer! She took my money and left your kids as bait so I’d hunt them instead of her! She knew I'd come for the house!"

The truth burned deeper than the knife wound on my chest.

Delaney hadn't just abandoned our children because she was negligent. She had intentionally left them at the East Nashville rental, knowing that when Ortiz realized his money was missing, he would head straight to her house. She used six-year-old Micah and four-year-old Elsie as a human shield to buy herself enough time to clear customs in Costa Rica.

She was a monster.

"She’s in Costa Rica..." I growled, my grip tightening on his arm until the joint popped.

"She was in Costa Rica," Ortiz spat, gasping for air. "My people picked her up at the airport in San José an hour ago. She thought she was clever. She didn't know I owned the charter company."

Before I could process his words, heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs above us.

"POLICE! DON'T MOVE!" Callahan’s voice boomed down the stairwell, accompanied by three armed hospital security officers with weapons drawn.

Ortiz stopped fighting. He slumped against the door, a sinister smile spreading across his face despite the blood trickling from his nose.

"You saved your kids today, Mercer," Ortiz whispered as Callahan slammed him against the wall and snapped heavy steel handcuffs around his wrists. "But Delaney? She’s going to pay every single cent she owes me. And when I get out on bail, I’ll remember your face."

"You aren't getting bail, Ortiz," Callahan growled, shoving the criminal up the stairs. "You just fired a weapon in a children's hospital. You're going away for the rest of your life."

I leaned against the concrete wall, clutching my bleeding ribs, my chest heaving as the adrenaline slowly drained from my system.

A team of paramedics ran down the stairs toward me, opening a trauma kit. "Sir! You're bleeding! Sit down!"

"I'm fine," I panted, pushing their hands away gently. "I need to get to my children."

I stumbled up the stairs, step by step, forcing my aching legs to move. When I reached Room 412, the room was surrounded by armed police officers.

Inside, Micah was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, holding Elsie’s small hand. Elsie was wide awake now, her large brown eyes looking around the room in confusion.

When I stepped through the doorway, bruised, bloodied, and torn, both of them froze.

"Dad?" Elsie squeaked, her voice weak but clear.