Page 93 of Ruined By Blood
"We move at first light. Send me the building layout. And make sure the doctor knows what we're dealing with. We don't know what kind of shape she's in after years of forced medication." I tell Noah.
Alessio stands, checking his weapon. "I'll assemble a team. Small, efficient. We go in quiet, come out the same way."
I end up the call.
"We can't fuck this up," I tell Alessio. "Charlotte Sterling is our leverage, but she's also Sienna's mother. We treat her with care."
Alessio nods, understanding the weight of what we're about to do.
The Connecticut air hits with an early morning chill as we sit in position outside Oakwood Wellness Center. Our tactical van is parked down the street, disguised as a medical supply delivery vehicle.
"Team Two in position at the service entrance," Noah's voice comes through my earpiece.
"Any movement inside?" I ask.
"Nurse change just happened. Next rotation in four hours," Alessio reports from beside me, scrolling through the building's staff schedule that Matteo's friend hacked from their system. "We have a ninety-minute window before the doctor does morning rounds."
I check my watch. 6:40 a.m. Perfect.
"Remember, we don't know what condition she's in," I tell the team. "Years of forced sedation could mean anything from physically weakened to completely non-responsive."
Alessio nods, checking his weapon before concealing it beneath his white lab coat. "Daniel's waiting with the secondary vehicle at the extraction point. Doctor Romano is prepped for whatever condition we find her in."
I slip the stolen ID badge around my neck. Dr. James Sullivan, psychiatric consultant. Alessio becomes Dr. Peterson, while Noah and Matteo take the roles of orderlies. The rest of our team waits as backup, ready to create a distraction if needed.
"Sterling's private security?" I ask.
"Two men. Room 318. They rotate every twelve hours," Noah confirms. "Current guards came on at midnight, so they'll be getting bored and tired."
The building's layout appears on my tablet. Three floors, central staircase, emergency exits at both ends. Charlotte's room is on the third floor, north wing.
The clock hits 5:45. Time to move.
"Let's go," I say, opening the van door.
We file out, medical bags containing tactical gear in hand. Walking with purpose across the parking lot, we look like nothing more than early morning medical consultants arriving for a case review.
At the entrance, the sleepy security guard barely glances at our badges before buzzing us through. The reception area sits empty except for a night nurse who's too busy with paperwork to pay attention.
We reach the third floor. Matteo stays at the stairwell to intercept any staff, while Noah, Alessio and I continue down the sterile hallway toward Room 318.
Around the corner, I spot the two guards - one seated outside the door reading something on his phone, the other pacing nearby. Neither looks particularly alert.
I nod to Noah and Alessio. We've done this countless times.
"Excuse me," I call out, striding forward with clipboard in hand. "I need to verify something about the patient in 318."
The seated guard looks up with mild annoyance. "There's no scheduled visit."
"Director Matthews ordered a reassessment of all long-term patients," Alessio says smoothly, stepping closer while I draw the guard's attention with paperwork.
The movement happens in seconds. Noah takes the standing guard with a precise choke hold, while Alessio subdues the seated one before he can reach for his weapon. Quick, efficient, silent.
"Zip ties," I murmur.
We secure them efficiently, checking their pockets for keys and phones. The whole takedown takes less than thirty seconds.
"Get them inside that supply closet," I direct Noah, pointing to a door across the hall. "Then you and Matteo take their positions. Anyone approaches, you're regular security doing your job."
