Chapter 6 - Exiled
I sprinted up the stairs three at a time, my lungs burning, Agent Torres and Miller right behind me.
When we slammed through the double doors of the PICU, the scene was chaos. Alarm bells were ringing, nurse call lights were flashing red, and Clara was on her knees beside Leo’s bed, fighting off a tall man dressed in dark blue surgical scrubs.
"Get off him!" Clara screamed, striking the man in the face with a heavy plastic tray.
The man shoved Clara back into the bedside table, sending metal instruments crashing to the floor. He turned toward Leo’s IV line, holding a large syringe filled with a milky white liquid—propofol and potassium chloride, a lethal cocktail meant to stop the boy's heart instantly.
"Freeze!" Detective Miller roared, drawing his weapon.
The intruder didn't freeze. He yanked the syringe free, lunged toward the window, and slammed his heavy body through the reinforced glass barrier, diving out onto the second-floor roof overhang.
Miller fired two shots into the night air as the man hit the lower roof, scrambled across the gravel, and dropped into the dark alleyway where an unmarked black sedan was waiting with its engine roaring.
I ignored the gunfire and dropped to my knees beside Leo.
The intruder had managed to push half the syringe into the boy's central line before Clara stopped him. Leo’s heart monitor was already spiting violent, erratic arrhythmias—Ventricular Tachycardia.
"He's in V-Tach!" I shouted, grabbing the crash cart. "Calcium chloride! Atropine! Give me two milligrams of epinephrine now!"
"I've got the line!" Agent Torres shouted, helping me flush the contaminated IV tube.
For ten grueling minutes, we fought the chemical poison tearing through Leo’s small body. I administered the reversing agents, my hands steady through pure, adrenaline-fueled refusal to let this child die.
Finally, the chaotic waves on the screen flattened into a regular beat.
Beep... beep... beep.
"He's stable," I sobbed out, leaning my forehead against the metal bed rail, tears finally breaking through my composure. "He's stable."
Detective Miller walked back into the room, his face dark with fury. "The driver got away, but we found something in the alley. The guy dropped his keycard."
He held up an electronic access badge in a clear plastic evidence bag.
The badge bore the logo of Arizona Orthopedic Institute, with the name and photo of Dr. Julian Vance’s senior surgical assistant, Dr. Robert Sterling.
"Vance didn't just order the transfer," Miller said. "He sent an executioner to finish the job before Leo could talk about his sister."
"We need to get to that house now," I said, wiping my face.
"You're not going anywhere, Dr. Jenkins," a cold voice spoke from the doorway.
May you like
We turned around. Standing in the entrance of the ICU was Donald Sterling, the CEO of the hospital, accompanied by three armed private security officers and two corporate lawyers.
"Dr. Sarah Jenkins," Sterling announced formally, holding a piece of paper. "As of this moment, your clinical privileges at this hospital are revoked. You are placed on immediate administrative leave for gross misconduct, unauthorized access to secure materials, and endangering patient safety. Security will escort you off the premises immediately."
