Chapter 7 - The Shock to the System
I slowly pulled the portable AED unit from my bag, keeping it hidden behind my hip.
Vittorio was still lecturing Dante, intoxicated by his own twisted God complex. The guards were focused entirely on the two mafia bosses, ignoring the middle-aged nurse in scrubs.
That was their fatal mistake.
I armed the defibrillator. The device hummed quietly as it charged to its maximum setting of 360 joules.
I took a slow, deep breath, calculating the distance to the centrifuge’s exposed power conduit.
“You’re a dinosaur, old man,” Dante spat, keeping Vittorio’s attention locked on him. “Your empire is dead. I took it legitimate. You’re holding onto ghosts.”
“I am the ghost, Dante!” Vittorio yelled, slamming his fist on the metal table next to Elena. “And I will haunt this family until the end of time!”
I didn’t hesitate anymore.
I dove forward, sliding across the slick linoleum floor.
“Hey!” one of the guards shouted, raising his rifle.
I slammed the two charged defibrillator paddles directly onto the exposed metal junction box of the centrifuge’s power cord and pressed the shock buttons.
CRACK!
A blinding flash of blue sparks erupted from the machine.
The massive surge of electricity instantly fried the centrifuge’s motherboard. The digital screens flashed red, error alarms screamed, and exactly as I had predicted, the emergency safety valves violently released with a loud hiss of depressurizing air.
The thick tubing disconnected from Elena’s hips, sealing instantly to prevent hemorrhage.
The machine died.
Vittorio screamed in rage, the smell of ozone and burning plastic filling the room.
“Kill them!” Vittorio roared.
But the flash of sparks had given Dante the distraction he needed.
Dante drove his elbow into the groin of the guard holding him, snatched the man’s rifle as he doubled over, and spun around.
The surgical suite erupted into absolute chaos.
Gunfire deafened me. I scrambled under the operating table, covering my head as bullets shattered the medical cabinets above me, showering the floor in broken glass and sterile saline.
Anthony was a blur of motion, taking down two guards with brutal hand-to-hand combat while Dante laid down suppressing fire.
I crawled out from under the table and pulled myself up next to Elena.
She was pale, her pulse weak, but she wasn’t bleeding. The safety release had worked.
“Elena,” I whispered, tapping her cheek. “Elena, wake up.”
Her eyelids fluttered. She groaned, disoriented by the anesthesia.
The gunfire suddenly stopped.
I peaked over the edge of the operating table.
Dante and Anthony were standing, breathing heavily, surrounded by the bodies of Vittorio’s guards.
Vittorio was backed against the wall, clutching his chest. The stress, the failure of the machine, and the lack of his bone marrow transfusion were catching up to him. His unnaturally prolonged life was finally collapsing.
Dante walked slowly toward his father, dropping the empty rifle and pulling a combat knife from his boot.
“Dante, don’t!” Michael yelled from the doorway.
Michael limped into the room, leaning heavily on the doorframe.
“Don’t make him a martyr in your own head, Dante,” Michael wheezed. “Let his own sick body kill him. Let him die knowing his legacy failed.”
Vittorio slid down the wall, gasping for air, his face turning a sickly shade of gray.
He looked up at Dante with pure, unadulterated hatred.
“You… you are nothing without me,” Vittorio choked out.
Dante stood over the man who had ordered the death of his wife, kidnapped his daughter, and tortured his brother.
Dante didn’t yell. He didn’t strike him.
He simply looked down at him with absolute pity.
“I am a father,” Dante said quietly. “And that is something you never learned how to be.”
Vittorio’s eyes widened. He grabbed his chest, let out one final, rattling breath, and his head slumped forward.
He was dead.
The monster of the Romano family was finally gone.
I let out a sob of relief and turned back to Elena.
She was awake now, staring in absolute confusion at the bloody scene around her.
She looked at Dante, recognizing the man who had funded her charity.
“Mr. Romano?” Elena whispered, her voice raspy. “What… what’s happening? Where is my son?”
Dante immediately dropped his knife and rushed to the table.
He gently cupped her face in his massive, bloodstained hands. Tears streamed freely down his cheeks.
“Leo is safe, sweetheart,” Dante wept, pressing his forehead against hers. “He’s safe. And you’re safe. I’ve got you.”
Elena looked at him, the realization slowly dawning in her eyes as she saw the identical features, the identical dark eyes.
“You’re… you’re my father,” Elena breathed.
Dante nodded, unable to speak, pulling his lost daughter into a fierce, desperate embrace.
Anthony walked over, placing a gentle hand on his new sister’s shoulder, tears in his own eyes.
May you like
I stood back, wiping my face with my sleeve, watching a fractured family finally click into place.
My job was done.
