Chapter 1014
Chapter 1014:
Austin and Domenic were hooked to blood transfusions in the back. Ellen knelt between them, monitoring vitals.
“That red wine trick…” Ellen’s voice wavered. “That’s not something they teach in med school, is it p>
Yelena caught Ellen’s reflection in the rearview mirror. She was changing Domenic’s dressing—her hands steady now. “Three years ago, Airari war zone. We treated worse wounds with expired whiskey.” She tossed Ellen a USB drive. “Twenty-seven emergency procedures p>
“Password’s your brother’s birthday p>
Ellen’s grip tightened. Tears dripped onto the back of Domenic’s hand. “That coat my brother gave you… I picked the style. But I—I didn’t know about the tracker p>
The drone of a helicopter cut through the storm. Yelena suddenly veered into a tunnel.
When Leonel’s men arrived, they found only the smoldering wreckage of a car at the bottom of a ravine. A single blood-stained coat lay in the trunk, initials stitched into the collar—A.B.
The next morning, at a private sanatorium on the city’s outskirts, Brody stepped into the dimly lit room. Yelena stood beside Domenic’s bed, adjusting the respirator. Sunlight slanted through the blinds, casting faint lines across Austin’s pallid face. A hair tie—hers—was wrapped around his finger as a makeshift tourniquet.
“Leonel thinks you’re dead,” Brody said, setting down fresh ID documents. “But Austin’s fake death won’t hold for more than three days p>
Yelena tucked the blanket tighter around Austin. “That’s enough.” She turned her palm up, revealing a jagged shard of glass—one she’d pulled from Domenic’s wound the night before. A sliver of metal clung to it, speckled with micro-components. Brody’s breath hitched. “This… this isn’t just glass p>
“No. It’s Barton Pharmaceuticals’ latest nano-scale tracker.” Yelena submerged the shard in alcohol. “Get the helicopter ready p>
A shadowy figure, cloaked in darkness and holding a black umbrella, moved swiftly past the window just as Ellen’s terrified scream rang out from the hallway.
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Yelena immediately snatched the scalpel from the tray.
Yelena burst into Domenic’s room, a scalpel clutched tightly in her hand. Ellen sat frozen on the floor, her trembling finger pointing at the window in pure shock.
Beyond the glass, a woman dressed in white, gripping a black umbrella, seemed to be suspended in midair.
Ellen’s pupils shrank, her face contorted with horror, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. How could anyone—any normal person—just float like that? It was impossible. Unless she wasn’t human!
Yelena’s grip on the scalpel tightened, the blade grazing the window frame with a sharp whisper. Outside, the black umbrella tilted ever so slightly upward.
Ellen’s gaze stayed locked on the figure beyond the window. A strangled scream rose in her throat but refused to escape. Then, from beneath the shadowed edge of the umbrella, half of the woman’s face emerged—a face eerily similar to Yelena’s, save for a beauty mark near one eye. And in her hand, pointed straight at the respirator, was a gun.
Without hesitation, Yelena flung the window open and hurled the scalpel at the black umbrella.
A sharp tear split the air as the blade slashed through the fabric. The woman’s expression darkened, a flicker of rage flashing in her eyes.
“Yelena, it’s been a long time.” The woman’s voice was laced with mockery as she leapt gracefully into the room, a smirk curling her lips. Yelena’s fingers stiffened around the empty air where the scalpel had been.
That voice—there was no mistaking it. Alina Robinson. Her old nemesis from their training years.